


the only thing worth fighting for

by weightedbythinking



Category: Star Wars - Aftermath, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Aftermath of Torture, Alcohol, Captivity, Death Threats, Electrocution, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Poe Dameron/Finn, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Injury, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Mission Fic, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Past Torture, Plotty, Poe Dameron Hurts So Prettily, Psychological Torture, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Burn, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-08-09 17:12:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 26
Words: 57,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7810354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weightedbythinking/pseuds/weightedbythinking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Immediately after the events at Starkiller Base, and overwhelmed by guilt, Poe Dameron takes on what should be an easy mission for the Resistance to root out the First Order where they might be the weakest. He accepts the task from General Leia to take his mind off of what happened to Finn, expecting to come home to him soon. Aided by a questionable ally, Poe will try to make it back home in one piece, though it will prove harder than he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. wandering through these empty rooms of dusty books and quiet dreams

It used to help so much.

Walking. Just simply moving. Walking down the empty halls late at night. The movement of the day had finally slowed to a crawl and the usefulness that one may have possessed at some point had given way to the body’s need for rest. Sleep should come easy to the tired body.

But not for Poe Dameron.

Even before the events on the Star Destroyer, even before the events at Starkiller, he never slept much. His body would be consumed with exhaustion, but not his mind. His thoughts used to be occupied with things like new modifications he could make on Black One to make her just _that_ much faster, _that_ much more maneuverable. Things like beating his record on the simulators (he had to get that title back from Snap, and he wasn’t about to relinquish it again) or whether or not he would skip breakfast the next morning to get a run in before everyone else woke up. The time with his thoughts alone was peaceful; it was a sort of silence to him.

But now he can’t escape the noise.

It’s not just the nightmares, the ones where he jolts awake, covered in sweat, rubbing his wrists instinctively to remind himself that he isn’t restrained. His heart racing, thankful that he is awake and that it isn’t real…this time. He can never sleep after those nightmares. They used to be more sporadic, but now they come almost every night.

Poe hears BB-8 quietly chirp a message of worry, something about how he didn’t sleep last night either, but Poe ignores him while he slips on his boots.

“I’m fine, buddy.”

BB-8 beeps quietly. His trusty astromech knows him well enough not to argue this moot point.

He slips out of his room, closing the door mindfully behind him. The last thing he needs is for somebody to wake up and come outside and ask him if he’s OK.

Of course he isn’t.

The bruises have been fading and the cuts on his face are almost all healed, but when he looks in the mirror, he can only see the way he saw his face after he stumbled his way back onto base after escaping Kylo Ren’s Star Destroyer. He couldn’t tell if the blood dried on his cheek was from when some faceless officer backhanded him or if it was from the crash landing. _How am I still alive?_

He still walks with a slight, almost imperceptible limp in his right leg after he twisted his foot being dragged down those corridors, those endless corridors of the ship…he tried to keep track of the turns, left, right, left, left, right…but they all looked the same…one stray thought and he’d lose his way…what would he even do if he got out?...keep running until they found him again?... what was the point? he’d only bring himself more pain…just do what they want as long as you don’t tell them…don’t tell them…don’t tell them about BB-8…don’t tell them where you put it…

Poe screams.

Not just in his memory, but right now. Sitting on the cold concrete, next to his bedroom door.

Snapping back into the present, Poe realizes that someone will have heard him. _Don’t ask me if I’m OK._

He takes off running.

It’s not just the nightmares, it’s the realization that his memories are seeping into his waking moments. He can’t walk back into the hangar without remembering how he collapsed on the ground when he first tried to come in after his crash landing and semi-miraculous way off of Jakku. The rushing air sound of an air lock reminds him of his cell door on Ren’s ship and how he’d have to steel himself for the next torture, knowing it could be his last moment at any time. The despair, the hopelessness, all things bleak until…

Finn.

That damned foolish boy who played on Poe’s daring tendencies and desperation to make an improbable escape. The moment, after each having assumed the other died, they realized that the other was alive was the happiest that Poe had felt in years and he made a promise to protect him, no matter what.

And he’d failed. Again.

Poe barely notices his lungs crying out to him in protest for running so hard without warning. He stops just at the entrance to the medbay.

Finn.

When Poe arrived back from Starkiller, he was running on his usual post-mission adrenaline high. His team, though a few members shorter, had managed to avoid total destruction of themselves and the rest of the Resistance. The cheers were deafening, his own voice intermingled with those whom he had saved.  The Millennium Falcon landed not long after and his whole world stopped. Shouts of despair joined the cacophony. Han Solo was dead…and was that Finn’s limp body in Chewie’s arms? Poe turned on his heels and ran toward the stretcher where Finn lay, wearing Poe’s jacket, covered in blood. _What happened? Is he alright? Who did this? Is he going to be alright?_

That was five days ago. Finn hasn’t woken up since then.

Poe walks into Finn’s room; the nurse near the door stirs, but the whole staff has just given up on trying to keep Poe away.

He could be simply sleeping. Dreaming, hopefully good dreams. Poe kneels beside his bed, the soft hum of some medical machine nearby punctuates the deathly silence. He touches Finn’s hand. It’s warm to the touch, but his hand doesn’t respond.  After Ren’s lightsaber slashed through his spine, he hasn’t moved an inch. Poe’s anguish at the hands of Ren pale in comparison to what he’s done to Finn.

It comes rushing in without warning. The tide of anger within Poe. He’s learned how to keep his emotions at bay; his leadership depends on him being able to make rational decisions, at least most of the time. He wants to scream and cry and bash his fists against the walls until his knuckles bleed. He raises his now shaking hand to Finn’s forehead, gently traces his fingers against his closed eyes.

It isn’t even anger for what had happened. It is an anger for what could be. For a future. For a potential. Poe couldn’t say that he knew Finn that well, hard to go through the niceties when you’re getting shot at everytime you’re together. Yet for the first time, Poe felt inexplicably entwined into someone else’s life. Suddenly there was potential to have a deep connection with another person and it was the chance to lose THAT which made Poe so furious.

“I’m going to make him pay, Finn. For you, for me. If it’s the last thing I do.”

Poe buries his face into the sterile, white bedsheets, not noticing that this whole time, Leia has been watching him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first official post to the AO3, despite many unfinished drafts sitting on my computer for years, and it's very exciting! If you have any comments or anything to help me be a better writer (feeling a bit rusty), please share! I learn so much from reading so many other amazing works on here!
> 
> *I've tagged this with Star Wars: Aftermath because I'm utilizing an amazing character from the series, but you do not have to have read the books (though I highly recommend!) to understand the fic. Poe is getting to know the character too, so you're all on the same page.
> 
> **I've also tagged this fic as mature, because though it is not for now, the plans I have for it will make it so and I do not want to mislead anyone.
> 
> Chapter and work title from [The Only Thing Worth Fighting For](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mjg43nzSYck) by Lera Lynn


	2. takes me a day to remember a day I didn’t mean to let it get so far out of hand

It’s an odd sensation, being able to tell when you aren’t alone in a room without any visual or audible clues. Poe knew someone was there besides him and Finn, yet he still jumped when he heard Leia say his name.

Her voice took on a gentle tone, deep and comforting. She wasn’t here to give him orders, but he almost wishes she was. He doesn’t want to seem weak, but right now, he feels anything but strong and stable. Regardless, he turns to face her and stands to attention.

“General.”

“Stand down, Poe, it’s alright. I’m not here in that role, not right now.”

Poe doesn’t release any of the tension holding him upright.

“Are you ok?”

_Not that question. Anything but that._

“Yes,” he replies curtly.

Leia sees the discomfort on his face, “I’m—I’m sorry, Poe. That is a terrible thing to ask; how can one be honest answering? I used to hate when people would ask me that.” She notices that Poe is imperceptibly trembling. Forgetting the hierarchy for a moment, she steps forward and moves to embrace him. He hesitates for a moment, but only a moment.

Poe can no longer contain the tide of emotions spilling out of him. His throat tightens, stemming back tears. He falls limply into her arms and allows the tears to come. He’d been suppressing his emotions since that ill-fated night on Jakku. It’s not like he has any time to reflect on everything that had happened. The fear, the desperation, the guilt, the bitterness, the regret all came out of him at one time and his legs buckled beneath him, his physical being overwhelmed by it all. Leia holds fast in keeping him upright, and doesn’t say a thing.

A few minutes pass, and Poe releases himself from Leia’s grip. He stumbles slightly, but regains his footing. He sits down on the edge of Finn’s bed. He wipes his eyes with the palm of his hand, then, embarrassed, tries to wipe his nose without Leia seeing.

She laughs.

“What?”

“Poe, you don’t have to try to hide that. I have seen my fair share of bodily excretions.”

“I—I  don’t want to know more than that.”

Leia laughs.

Poe laughs. Genuinely. It feels good.

Silence.

“How often do you come here?”

The lightness of laughter a few moments ago has vanished again.

“I try to come at least once a day. It’s been a lot more at night. I don’t really sleep much anymore,” Poe looks down at his feet, trying to regain his tenuous composure again, “I feel responsible.”

“Responsible for what?”

“For Finn. What happened to him.”

“Poe. That wasn’t your fault at all.”

“I promised myself I’d protect him, I promised…” he trails off, the tremble returning.

Leia sits next to Poe, and grabs his hands, gently shaking them, “Poe, you are absolutely not responsible for what happened to him, or anyone, on any mission. You actually saved his life, and so many lives that day. You know that? We are all still here because of you.”

Poe nods, not meeting her eyes.

“You can’t change anything that happened, but you have control over your future. I know that Finn wouldn’t want you to stop living and fighting. That’s why I came to see you. I have a mission that you can have if you want it.”

Despite himself, he perks up, “What is it?”

Leia smiles, she know she’s hooked him. She sees the spark of energy behind his tired eyes. “It’s nothing too big, but it has to be clandestine. I can’t even technically order you do to this, as I, and the Resistance, can’t take responsibility for it.”

“What is it?” Poe repeats.

“We intercepted some transmissions a month ago from the First Order, but we were just able to decode them. They seemed to be talking about a sort of library, an old Imperial library on Coruscant. It seemed to be a sort of brain trust of sorts. We don’t know what they were doing there, but it’s our hope that after Starkiller, they’re wounded and tending to that instead of whatever they were doing on Coruscant.”

“So you want me to go there and find out what they were talking about? That sounds vague and dangerous.”

“Which is why I asked you.”

A small smile creeped up Poe’s lips. A renewed sense of purpose overrode the concerns bubbling inside. “What if they retreated there instead?”

“We’ve already sent a scouting mission and sense no activity there. Our informants on the planet also tell us that they haven’t seen any First Order action since Starkiller. If there’s anything to be found there, we have to strike now before they remember to return.”

Poe opens his mouth to sign himself up, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees Finn. What if he never came back, going off on a fool’s errand just because he needed a sense of purpose? Was if selfless or selfish? Just the thought of potential guilt is suddenly overwhelming. Leia senses this.

“Finn is safe with us. He’s going to be just fine. He wouldn’t want you to stop your life for him. He’d tell you to go if you want to.”

“He’d tell me to come back,” Poe whispered.

Leia pauses, as if deciding whether or not to admit it, “I heard you as I walked in.”

Poe flushes, what had he said right before she walked in?

“I heard you say that you wanted to make them pay. I do too.”

Half out of embarrassment for being eavesdropped on and half out emotional instability, he lashes out, “How is finding a library of old Imperial documents going to make them pay?” He pauses, fearing he went too far, but Leia’s expression doesn’t change. The words keep coming. “ I want them to feel the pain I feel. I want them to wake up in a cold sweat every night because they fear me, and not the other way around!” Poe yells, only just realizing he’s yelling, having yanked his hands away from Leia’s grip. He gulps in too much air every time he breathes in, overcompensating for the fact that his throat feels like it’s growing smaller with every passing moment.

“Not every battle is a Starkiller, or a Death Star. Those feel big, but they barely scratch the surface. We’ve made a big statement and now we have to follow up. We dismantle them from the inside. That is how a war is won. Not by revenge for personal slights.”

“ _Personal slights?_ They _tortured_ me for days! I had my _mind_ scraped clean and I can’t have a ‘personal slight’ against them?” Poe spits through gritted teeth.

Leia’s calm demeanor has turned steely. “I never said that you couldn’t have one. You deserve to have those feelings, that anger, but you cannot let it control you. Seeking revenge will only bring you more pain. Revenge does not heal Finn. Revenge doesn’t stop the nightmares.”

Feeling his face flush red, he tries to steady his breathing that has him close to hyperventilating, “Then what will?” Poe asks, his voice breaking.

“I don’t know, but wallowing in your anger won’t help. I want you do go on this mission because _you_ need it.  _You_ need it even more than we need the information. You need to feel like you’re making a difference again, I know the frustration of not getting anything done, but it’s little victories we need right now Poe.”

Leia puts his hand on his shoulder, “Think about it, Dameron. You don’t have to decide now.”

Silence.

Leia gets up, and makes towards the doorway.

“How’d you find me here?”

“I’m sorry?”

“How did you know I’d be here right now?” Poe’s eyes glisten in the low light, but his steely gaze doesn’t lose its power.

Leia replies with quiet intensity, “Because where else do you go when you can’t sleep, but to the side of the one person you care most about. I know nightmares, Poe. I know the pain that lingers. But I also know the power of companionship. I never realized that until I lost it. We have to treasure it.”

Poe nods.

As Leia’s footsteps fade into the distance, Poe gets up from Finn’s bed, the mattress springing up slightly from the sudden lack of weight. He takes in all of Finn’s features as if it will be the last time he sees him. He wants to see his nose, his lips, his eyes every time Poe closes his own. He leans over Finn’s head, his warmth radiating into every cell of Poe’s body.

 He kisses Finn’s forehead, remembering his smell, his aura, anything to remind him of why this all matters. Why he joined the Republic, then the Resistance. Why he risks his life every time he climbs into his X-Wing. Poe could give you a poetic reason as to why he does what he does, something about freedom and justice and making the galaxy a safe place. Which is true, he wants all of that but that’s all a façade to hide his own desires.

All he really wants is a home in the woods where he can wake up beside someone he loves and have nothing to do and feel completely content. He wants a world where that is possible, even if it’s just for one night. Until then, Poe will keep fighting.

Poe takes a deep breath, and heads to the door. “I’ll be back soon, Finn. I have a mission I need to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As before, comments are most welcome! Please help me grow as a writer and part of this amazing community.
> 
> Chapter title from [Lemonworld](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ibPhhye1xc) by The National


	3. it pains my neck to look over my shoulder

Poe pulls out of hyperspace just before breaching the atmosphere. Normally he’d plough right through but this was a mission of a certain delicacy. Especially since he had no capability to call for backup. Akiva was a planet of no certain regard. For most people, that is. Poe knew it as Snap’s home planet and the site of many of his misadventures, including a major blow to the wounded Empire, before it fell completely. Poe knew the story by heart, if only because Snap told it so much. The details seemed to change every time though, and even more so after a few drinks.

Nowadays, Akiva was a neutral territory. Loyal to the New Republic, but far enough out of reach that most who lived there probably didn’t even know the current state of conflict. There were a few seedy pockets around the town, which, thanks to Snap, Poe now knows about. If he was going to do a clandestine job, he needed some people who were a little bit more than willing to bend the rules, and most importantly, not say anything about it. Well, hopefully one person in particular, who came Wexley-recommended, would be willing to come help him.

Poe isn’t flying Black One, nor is BB-8 with him. He isn’t even flying an X-Wing. He had to make sure that he wasn’t loudly broadcasting who he was truly working for, otherwise he’d immediately put a target on his head. After the nighttime meeting with Leia, Poe returned to the debriefing room to formally accept her offer. As soon as that was decided, they formulated his ruse for travel to Coruscant. He was to be a transport for old ship parts to a dealer that was known to be friendly to whomever paid him the most money. That seemed neutral enough and normal enough not to attract any unwanted attention.

Snap and Poe and Jessica Pava had retrofitted an old TL-freighter months ago, back when they didn’t seem to find any real action and spent the days playing around with their ships, other ships, and then back to their own ships. They hadn’t realized then how they’d wish for the freedom of boredom again. It was that freighter which was no weighted down with some valuable parts, but mostly junk, just to keep up the ruse. He is supposed to bring all of the valuable stuff back with him, barring any complications.

“Can I take anyone with me?” Poe had asked after deciding most of the bigger details. Leia was hesitant to send anyone else with him as they were hurting in numbers, and the people Poe wanted to take with him had been assigned elsewhere.

That’s why Poe now finds himself hovering out of the atmo of Akiva. Snap told him about a couple of places he knew where he could find some traders who could be duped into following him under his ruse, or even some who would be loyal to the cause.

“I had a friend, well, she wouldn’t like the term ‘friend’ but as a reformed bounty hunter, she could be useful. I think she lives on Akiva now,” Snap told Poe before he left.

_Would be more useful if I could remember her damn name._ Poe thought, chiding himself for being so distracted pre-mission. He lingers above the planet taking in the calmness of open space. He never feels more at home anywhere else than in a ship among the stars. Up here everything seems so small and insignificant, yet important at the same time. He takes a deep breath and points the freighter towards his destination and accelerates.

After a smooth landing and quick check over all the ship’s systems, which he reminds himself, still needs a name, Poe disembarks. He landed the ship just outside the capital city of Myrra, among the wooded area to keep it hidden. He holsters his blaster on his hip, and slips on his jacket. Well not _his jacket_ , the one he gifted to Finn, another weathered leather pilot’s jacket that he found in the storage bunker back on the base. Most of the Resistance’s supply was outdated anyway so he knew he’d have no problem blending in with his old looking equipment. At least he hopes so.

Myrra is place that looks like it used to be a hub of bustling activity, but has since deteriorated into an overgrown cluster of empty buildings. Vines creep through the streets and canopies of buildings which have used up all their necessity and sit vacant, waiting to become useful again. It’s not unpopulated though. Poe passes a few merchants and groups of people pulling hovercarts of old ship parts. He silently hopes that his ship is well hidden enough that his spare parts (or actual ship parts) don’t end up in those baskets.

So where else to go to find a misfit or two to help him, but a bar? Just one drink, Poe promises himself. Enough to take the edge off, but not too much to make him incapable of making rational decisions.

Snap mentioned to him there were a few watering holes he might want to check out, but having been over twenty years since he’d been there, he couldn’t guarantee anything. As usual, Poe’s instructions had been to “just figure something out.”

Thankfully it isn’t too hard to tell where the shadier parts of town are when the whole thing seems like the underbelly. He finds his first bar, stepping in behind a pair of Twi’leks, who can’t seem to keep their hands off each other. Poe smiles, despite himself.

The bar, which doesn’t have a name as far as he can tell with no sign outside, is dimly lit with, spare a bright blue light in the corner near the door. Poe walks right up to the bar, trying to take in everything he can at once. Besides the couple ahead of him, the bar is sparsely populated. A few Rodians sit in a booth near the blue light, engrossed in their conversation. A few others sit in the shade, making it difficult to determine who, or what, they are. Nobody really looks up to see the new entrants, as if this place has no real regulars and everyone is a stranger. At the bar sit a human man and a Togruta, both who look worse for wear. Poe notes them and maybe they’ll be the ones he can convince to help him.

“What are you drinking?” comes a voice from the bar, none too pleased to see his client fully distracted by his surroundings.

Poe quickly snaps out of observation mode, “I’ll have the house special,” he says, flashing his ‘charming’ grin, “whatever that is.”

The bartender, another Twi’lek, does not appear amused, “We don’t have any fancy drinks like you might in the cities, kid.”

“I’ll just have a whiskey then,” Poe says, his smile fading. Is he really that obvious that he isn’t from around here? His face burns with the recognition that the two at the bar are now staring at him. He glances over quickly to confirm and then back to the bartender. He needs that drink about now. He normally prides himself on his skills of conversation, but that whiskey is sure going to help in this situation because his confidence is leaking a little.

The bartender pours a hefty glass full of Akivan whiskey, Snap warned him about the strength, but with thankful eyes, he grabs the glass and drinks it all in one gulp. Then the burn comes. Poe coughs , his eyes watering, kriff, that was stronger than he expected. He pictures Snap laughing his ass off at him. Instead, Poe peripherally saw the man and Togruta at the bar moving his way.

“A bit stronger than you thought, huh kid?” he heard one of them say.

Composing himself, trying to subtly wipe his eyes, he turns to them, forcing a laugh, “Yeah what is in this stuff? Starship fuel?”

The man looks at him, intently, “I’m surprised you took it all in one go,” A pause, “You’re clearly not a native.”

Poe tries to read the man’s gaze, which seems uncomfortably fixated on him, almost a sort of hunger in the man’s eyes. There is not enough time to determine whether or not these two were friendly or not, “No I’m just visiting. An old friend told me about this place and said I’d be stupid not to come here.”

“That’s a word for it,” the Togruta said, a smile creeping up his cheeks, inching closer. Poe’s instincts want him to reach for his blaster, but he tries to steady himself. Whatever is going on, it does not seem to be in his favor. Poe glances up to the bartender, who seems intentionally oblivious to what is happening.

“What do you mean by that?” Poe asks, trying to keep his voice light, but his voice expels a darkness to it that he didn’t intend.

“For being _so_ observant upon walking in, you seemed to fail to notice the most important sign of all,” than Togruta says, turning to the man, who slides right up against Poe’s left side.

The man grabs Poe’s chin and shoves a blaster on his torso simultaneously. Poe grunts as the man forcibly turns his head back toward the door and that glowing blue light.

Except it isn’t just a glowing blue lamp, it’s a holoprojector displaying the galaxy’s most wanted.

_Wanted Alive for Questioning by the Supreme Leader of the First Order_

_1,000,000 credits_

_Resistance Traitor, Poe Dameron_

Poe stares back at his own likeness and inhales sharply, the man’s blaster pressed tightly against his ribs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most welcome are any comments and ideas and helpful hints, etc etc etc!
> 
> Chapter title from [Don't Make Me Wait](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QeXhde6wQas) by Lera Lynn  
> (you'll see a lot of her lyrics as chapter titles, especially her moody stuff from True Detective s2)


	4. if they want it, they can take it, they don’t need no reason why

“Now don’t do anything stupid,” whispers a voice, Poe can’t tell which of the two it is, but his mind is working too fast to care. He glances at the door, too far away. _Shit._ His right hand twitches toward his blaster just beyond reach down his leg, but one of them notices and grabs his wrist, twisting his arm against his back none too gently.

“ _Tsk tsk tsk,_ now that’s what I meant by something stupid,” the Togruta growls, Poe realizing he’s the one who just grabbed him. He feels the weight on his leg get lighter as his blaster is pulled out of his holster and turned on him as well. Great.

“If you don’t count showing up here as a wanted man as stupid,” the man behind him laughs, breathing down Poe’s ear. Poe feels his skin heating up and a sneer crawling on his lips. When faced with danger, Poe rarely gets scared, he usually just gets angry. He shifts his balance off the chair and drops his feet to the ground, but his arm is still pinned behind him. He can feel the eyes of the few patrons of the bar on him, his vision going dark around the edges with adrenaline pounding through his veins.

Fight or flight, fight or flight. Weigh the options, but not too long or else your decision is made for you. Fight or…

_Click._

Poe feels the cold sensation of durasteel on his right wrist. _No._

With his left arm still free, Poe jabs his elbow backward full force, colliding with the man’s body behind him.  The blaster pointed against his left side was now gone. His feet now steady on the ground, he reaches around to strike again, but the Togruta pushes his full body weight against Poe, slamming him into the bar. Poe reaches with his left hand onto the bar and grabs for something, anything, his empty glass! Poe reaches over his right shoulder to smash it against the Togruta, but he feels a hand in his hair and his neck is yanked backwards, throwing him off and he drops the glass.

“I thought I said don’t do anything stupid,” the man yells, pulling harder on Poe’s hair. Poe grunts as he feels large sections of hair separate themselves from his scalp. His eyes watering, he tries to find his bearing to swing again while his arm is still free, but it ends up just anticlimactically flailing away from any target.

The man lets go of Poe’s hair, pushing his head forward with force making his head collide with the wooden bar with a loud thump. Dazed, Poe tries to lift his head up, but the man’s shoulder presses his head against the bar. He can feel small shards of broken glass piercing his cheek. His lungs expel the rest of air stored up in them as his body gets pushed deeper into the bar and feels his own blaster pointed dangerously close to his heart.

“Grab his other arm for me, will you?”

No, he can’t let them fully restrain him, that’s the end of it, he won’t submit, he can’t, he has to get back home. Poe can’t see over his shoulder, but he can see down. He tries to focus his blurry eyes and sees the Togruta’s legs, just slightly off kilter next to his own. If he could just get him off balance for a split second, he could maybe just make it.

With no time to consider the alternatives, Poe kicks his right leg out and hits the Togruta in the knee, causing him to step back from holding Poe motionless. The man reacts to this sudden move too, loosening his vice and that’s just the opening he needs. Poe slides beneath him and falls to the ground, losing his own balance in the process. A pair of shackles dangles from his right wrist, but he has full mobility now. He catches himself with his hands and keeps kicking. He accidentally kicks his fallen blaster away from him, but that's the least of his worries right now. The man leans forward, dodging Poe’s legs and grabs his left shoulder, but Poe swings his right hand and the durasteel cuffs collide with the man’s head, knocking him completely off guard as he stumbles backwards with an angry exclamation.

Poe shuffles away from the bar, still on the ground, as the Togruta grabs his left ankle. Poe kicks up his right leg, hitting the Togruta right in the nose. He stumbles back, blood pouring from his apparently broken nose. Poe can now feel shards of broken glass on his hands as he slides himself up onto his feet. He turns around to see the door which seems impossibly far away but if he can just get out of here…if he can just leave this building…

Poe hears a guttural yell just behind him and right as the sounds has traveled to his ears to let him react, he feels an arm around his neck, completely restricting his air supply. He reaches up to try and free his windpipe, his fingernails digging into skin over and over to no avail.

“You could have made this go the easy way,” the man growls as he leads Poe across the room, his legs having lost their autonomy as his body cried out for air. The man slams Poe's chest against the wall, releasing his neck finally. That first breath is nirvana as his nerves jump and dance with renewed vigor. The feeling doesn’t last though. Poe feels his left arm twisted behind his back and finally cuffed to his right one with a deadly finality. He struggles meaninglessly, knowing that he’s one step closer to going back to what keeps him up at night, without even having accomplished one thing.

He feels the cold muzzle of a blaster, his own blaster, he knows it, against the nape of his neck.

“The game is up, kid. You’re going to make me a very rich man.”

“Us, you mean,” chides the Togruta coming up from behind. Poe can see him wiping the blood still pouring from his nose.

“No, I meant just me,” the man says, pointing the blaster away from Poe and shooting the Togruta square in the chest. A small gasp, and he falls lifeless to the ground. Poe yells out in surprise. Without a second’s hesitation, the man has the blaster right back against Poe’s neck.

“It’s only the money that is making me keep the ‘alive’ part of the promise,” he sneers, turning Poe around to face him. Using his free hand, the man strikes Poe’s cheek, a red mark blossoming as the echo of skin on skin reverberates throughout the room. Forgetting himself, Poe spits in the man’s face which only earns him a stronger blow to his brow, a steady trickle of blood now falling down his face.

“You think you’re the only one who wants him?” a female voice says, from the other side of the room. Poe tries to look over the man’s shoulder to see where it came from.

“Try again,” she says, suddenly much closer. The man’s eyes widen, the muzzle pressed against Poe’s neck falls away and he slumps to the ground. Poe remains frozen against the wall as his eyes try to focus on the woman who now stands in front of him. Before he can get a word out, he feels a needle plunged into the side of his neck.

“Oh,” he exclaims, and then it all goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the wonderful comments; you're all keeping me so inspired to push ahead with the ideas swimming around in my head. Which, thank goodness, I've managed to wrangle into a sort of open-ended outline for where this fic is going and it has me all excited!
> 
> Chapter title from [Broken Window](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jA191e0tlrY) by Arcade Fire


	5. but I am not her, you never were the kind who kept a rulebook near

Consciousness returns with either a whimper or a jolt, and for Poe, this time is the latter.

Poe’s thoughts return from the swimming nothing with a violent start. His eyes are still out of focus, but as sensation returns to his limbs, he realizes right away that his hands are still locked behind his back. The dread hits him like a punch to the stomach. He closes his eyes, hoping to shut out reality for a bit longer, but instead his memories attack every time his wrists scrape against the metal of his bonds. Reminding him of the hopelessness and the desperation, which is no longer his past.

It’s his present.

The mixture of adrenaline from the fight and the whiskey he had earlier has faded from his being and every sensation and emotion is painfully vibrant. _They can do whatever they want to me now. I’ve somehow failed, yet again. Try not to think of Finn, try not to think of Finn, try not to…._

“Someone’s awake.”

A female voice breaks Poe’s train of thought. He groggily tries to remember what happened and who she is. He opens his eyes and sees a figure swathed in shadow sitting a few feet from him. He begins to take in his surroundings, expecting to see the cold, unfeeling lines of a First Order transport, but that’s not what his eyes relay back to him

“Wait,” Poe croaks, his throat aching through the bruises on his neck, “is this my ship?”

“Yes. It is. Should have hidden it better.”

Poe blinks, as if each time he opens his eyes, he has to try to make sense of what is going on around him. Why is he in _his_ ship? Are they even moving?

“I’m conflicted,” the woman says, breaking Poe’s dumbfounded silence, “See I am trying to stay neutral here, but it seems like I have to make a choice here. I don’t like this new order, First Order, Empire 2.0 stuff going on.”

Poe dares to let his heart leap with a surge of hope. She is on his side? But then why is he still restrained? He still cannot manage to form any sentences to put all the pieces together.

She leans out of the shadows just slightly, and Poe sees a smile creeping up on her lips as she observes his confusion written all across his features. “You’re wondering who I am. You’re wondering then, well if she hates them, why hasn’t she just let me go?”

“Yeah,” Poe stammers, “I—I just don’t…”

“Well I’ll tell you this, you’ve now got to give me one million reasons as to why I should let you go. I may hate the First Order, but you can’t take away that sweet temptation of credits. Especially one million of them, to an old bounty hunter, to say the least. You’ve got to _convince_ me.”

Something told Poe that she wasn’t about to be convinced easily.

His eyes finally managed to focus, and he can see the woman who is sitting before him. She looks like a Zabrak, maybe? Her blue skin glows in the dim light, but it’s almost as dark as the shadows she sits in.

Wait, bounty hunter? Snap’s old friend, she was a bounty hunter. What was her _name_? How had he described her? Dark blue skin…was this…

Poe’s eyes start growing wider, he can’t help a smile growing across _his_ face. Now _she_ was the one who looked confused as the man whom she was holding ransom seemed giddy as a child.

“Do you know Snap Wexley?” Poe says, grinning.

‘Temmin?” she exclaims, a bit too loudly and eagerly than she probably intended. She was fully out of the shadows now and Poe could see the years etched into her face. She had been through a lot, he could tell, but her eyes betrayed her body as they were still bright and full of light. Catching herself, she clears her throat, “Why would you say that name to me?”

“Because he is my friend. And I think he was yours too. He mentioned you to me, actually, to recruit for my mission.”

This made her laugh loudly, “ _Recruit?_ Those damn Wexleys. They never learn.”

Poe keeps prodding, “I’m sorry, but I forgot your name. Snap did tell me that an old ‘reformed’ bounty hunter friend of his might live here.”

She eyes Poe suspiciously, “Reformed, huh? That’s how he put it. Well I might refer to him as a ‘reformed’ underground smuggler then if that’s the case,” she pauses, smiling at some vague memory floating to the surface. She looks at Poe, trussed up, and laughs. “You’re just the kind of person that Temmin _would_ befriend. Rash and idealistic but somehow charming.”

“You’ve deduced all that already?”

“I’ve been around a lot longer than you have. You read people much quicker, I promise.”

Silence.

“Jas,” she says.

“What?”

“Jas Emari. My name.”

That was it.

“Poe Dameron.”

“I know. I, like everyone else in the bar, saw who you were.”

Poe opens his mouth to argue, but decides against it. He has a tenuous truce with her now. He can’t mess this up now. The fear that clenched his stomach upon waking had dissipated, now replaced by a nagging ache in his shoulders with his arms still wrenched behind him. He tried to adjust himself to take some of the pressure off, but no position will offer him any comfort.

“So what’s this mission of yours?”

“Does that mean you want in?” Poe asks, raising one eyebrow.

“No,” she dismisses the thought instantly. Poe’s face drops. She catches it. “People don’t say ‘no’ to you often do they?”

“I’m a commander with the Resistance, most people can’t say no to me.”

Jas laughs again, a gleeful laugh, as if she hasn’t been this amused in years. Poe grimaces in irritation.

“Sorry, but I just never understood the whole military hierarchy stuff. That’s why I preferred to work outside of it. I’m just curious as to why you just plainly waltzed into that very shady bar in Akiva if not to immediately get captured.”

Poe chooses to ignore her teasing, “I don’t know what all gets around these days, but we landed a major blow to the First Order, destroying a large weapon of theirs. We’re following up on intel from before that, hoping they’re tending to their wounds and have some vulnerabilities. I’m heading to Coruscant.”

“Coruscant? Oh no, that’s a terrible idea,” Jas exclaims, “That place has never left the Empire’s shadow. It’s almost a source of pride to them. I can tell you the First Order wouldn’t just abandon it for you to go crawling about there.”

“We sent scouting missions there and it seems clear.”

“Everything looks clear from the skies. You don’t even begin to know what lurks beneath the surface there. Even us ‘ _reformed_ ’ bounty hunters won’t go near it.”

“Well this is my mission from my general, and I have no room to question it. She wouldn’t send me on a suicide mission.”

Jas looks at him solemnly, “I believe that, but I also believe you’re not as well equipped as you need to be to do this.”

“That’s why I came here. I wanted some help. And I would have done just fine had those two not stuck their nose in. I was blending in.”

“Are you kidding me? Everyone who walked in the place saw your stupid mug.”

“Whoa whoa, you know I’m appreciated for this stupid mug,” Poe counters.

“I bet you are.” Jas replies, drily.

“Besides, I’m a pilot. I don’t do this…ground work often. My instincts are up in the stars.”

“How poetic.”

Poe glares at her for a moment too long. He’s afraid that he’s soured this relationship already. _You’re also appreciated for your big mouth._

“Then why did they send you on a, what you’d call, ground mission if you’re so ill suited for it?”

A brief pause.

“I chose to do it. I have my own personal reasons.” Poe steels his gaze away from her, trying to conceal the anger slowly simmering beneath his countenance but manages to see a smirk, slowly growing across her face.

“Oh I see. You want revenge.”

Leia’s words echo through his mind. _Seeking revenge will only bring you more pain. Revenge does not heal Finn. Revenge doesn’t stop the nightmares._

“Of sorts,” he answers.

Jas scoffs, “There is no ‘of sorts.’ It’s either revenge or it isn’t. If you’re righting some pain that was caused you, it’s revenge. And nobody around here escapes pain, so it’s revenge. Don’t act like I haven’t seen my fair share of pain and revenge and its consequences, because I have.”

 Jas pauses, the silence heavy laden with memory, hangs perilously between them. “I know the Empire. I fought the Empire, despite all my chances not to.”

“They’re coming back, the First Order is stronger than most people think,” Poe pleads, “The New Republic didn’t see them as a threat, and they paid for that. I’ve been on one of their Star Destroyers and they are scarily well-equipped.” Poe’s thoughts slam back to the moment he stepped onto the _Finalizer_ and saw the troopers marching and the lines and line of TIE Fighters stretching up and down the hangar. He remembers the awful realization of being completely overwhelmed and underprepared, a combination he rarely found himself in.

“You’ve been on one of their Star Destroyers? And yet you managed to somehow get off of that and end up here?” Jas says, looking slightly bewildered.

“More or less.”

“I can’t decide if you’re remarkably lucky or remarkably stupid, kid.”

“Usually a little of both.”

Jas smiles, and Poe returns the gesture.

“I’m retired. It’s been too much for one lifetime for me. I’ve seen more than most in this seemingly endless conflict, yet…” she closes her eyes, drifting away momentarily, thinking through her next words carefully, “I will help you, Poe Dameron, but not for your own revenge. For mine. I _can’t_ let a new Empire live. Not while I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here she is, Jas Emari, an amazing character from the Star Wars: Aftermath books. I highly recommend them (2 of 3 are out, with the last one coming out next February) but are not necessary to understand what's going on. If you want a condensed version, Wookieepedia (a godsend for writing this universe) has a good outline of her past. She's just so much fun to write for and I needed our boy to have a good verbal sparring partner.
> 
> Chapter title again from [The Only Thing Worth Fighting For](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mjg43nzSYck) by Lera Lynn (I finally hyperlinked previous chapters' songs as well)


	6. the empty sky surrounds me but i can't see at all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: violent nightmares, past torture

Poe has never been happier to be back up in the sky. That was too close for comfort, even for him. He swears to himself he will never go back to that planet. _Sorry Snap, I’ve gotten my fill of Akiva._

Jas sits in the pilot’s seat of the refurbished freighter while Poe sits just outside the cockpit near the door to the storage room. Poe had insisted on flying, but after the restraints were removed and Poe saw his bloodied hands with a few shards of glass still sticking out, he deferred to her piloting skills. Which weren’t bad, Poe had to admit, considering she’d never flown this ship before.

What is bad, are all these cuts on his hands, and his cheek, which he painfully discovered after he brushed his arm against his brow to wipe off the sweat he worked up from pulling out the chunks of glass. Cursing himself for thinking that using a glass as a weapon was a good idea, he ploughs away at getting the last pieces out and then wrapping his palms in bacta coated bandages. Thankfully Jess was prescient enough to put a first aid kit inside the ship.

Poe feels the gentle tug of hyperspace as he and his new partner hurdle towards their destination. Jas seems like a good person; he understands her hesitation in trusting him and ultimately joining him into what seems more and more like a terrible idea. Poe tries to brush away the trickles of doubt that are seeping into his confidence. What he perceived as a simple mission is becoming more complicated with every passing minute. He tries not to think too far into what Jas said about Coruscant, even though in the back of his mind he feels she is right. You cannot see what is going on underneath the façade when you’re at a certain height. Are they walking right into a trap? Are you going to get home to Finn?

_No, stop. Don’t think like that. Focus on your mission, don’t get distracted._

But every time Poe closes his eyes, all he can see Finn’s warm eyes, full of life and eagerness and bravery that Poe himself seems to somehow be lacking.

“How are you doing, Dameron?”

Safely in hyperspace, Jas comes over to join Poe in the hallway. He holds up his hands, tightly wrapped in bandages and smirks. “Been better.”

“Hey at least I took those shackles off for you,” Jas jokes, “Sorry about that by the way. I really hadn’t decided to help you out until I said I was going to. I guess you just _moved_ me.”

“I appreciate the sarcasm.”

“Ok, that was an exaggeration, but you really did sway me kid, so there’s at least that. Come join me up front? Whatever you and your friends did works well enough, but some of it makes no sense to me. It took me too long to find the hyperdrive.”

“That was Snap actually,” Poe says, standing up. He grimaces, trying to ignore the pain signals his body keeps sending him, “He hid it, cause he thought it would be harder to steal that way.”

“Always so suspicious, that boy. Well, I suppose he’s not a boy anymore. He’s a full grown man now,” Jas pauses, letting nostalgia wash over for a moment, “It’s been so long.” She sits in the co-pilot’s seat this time.

Poe slides into the pilot’s seat, and checks the vitals of the ship. Jas did a fine job getting them up and out of there. He checks the coordinates on the hyperspace drive and sees that they aren’t heading to Coruscant, but just barely west of that. “Wait, we aren’t going to Coruscant?”

“Yes we are, but I wasn’t about to jump straight into their atmo. Like I said, they aren’t going to just let us waltz right in, we have to be careful if we want to even make it to the ground. Besides, you never told me exactly where we were going.”

“I’ve got a bunch of spare ship parts in storage that we are going to bring to a trader, or at least that’s our ruse. We’re just ordinary traders. That should get us planetside, then we can find the library.”

“Oh ok this is new, a library? What’s in the library?”

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Poe says, “Our intel says that the First Order has been gathering there for some reason, but haven’t been seen since we blew up one of their bases. It’s like they’ve retreated, or they’re triaging that wound and this is a chance to find out more about them.”

“I don’t know, I’m just not feeling like they’re sulking away like a wounded bantha. What if they’re holed up in this library and we burst in? That’s not going to go too well.”

“I have to trust General Organa in that she’s not sending me into danger on purpose,” Poe argues, half trying to convince himself of this fact.

“Wait, Leia Organa? The princess?”

“Yes, though she eschews that title now. She’s my general, she’s our general and she gives me no reason not to trust her.”

“I can see that,” Jas says, “but we can’t be overconfident. If things start to go bad, we need to get out of there, and quickly. Can you abandon your mission to save your own skin? Because I can.”

 _Yes. I have to get back home._ “We will deal with that if it arises.”

Jas does not look convinced at Poe’s non-answer, but they are interrupted by a red flash and a klaxon sounding from the control panel. They both jump a bit, but Poe knows this just means they are nearing their destination. “I guess we will deal with it soon,” he says, “We are almost here.”

“No we won’t deal with it quite yet. I sent us just far enough outside the system, near an uninhabited moon. We can linger here a bit. You need some rest. And being unconscious earlier doesn’t count.”

Poe opens his mouth to argue, but the heaviness behind his eyelids tells him not to, “Are you going to sleep too?”

“If I counted right, there’s only one bunk. Besides, one of us should be ready for trouble. I’m surprised you’re still awake. My little concoction usually has a second kick after the first one,” she says slyly.

Poe shudders with the recollection of the body numbing sensation of the needle she’d plunged in his neck just hours before, “What did you hit me with anyway?” Poe asks, slowly getting himself of out his seat.

“I can’t tell you all my secrets now, can I?” Jas says, looking pleased with herself, “Get some rest, Dameron.”

Poe nods, leaving the cockpit and heading down the hallway to the small room with just barely enough room for a bed that you can kick your legs out of. Poe slips his boots off and drapes his jacket over the top of them. His sore muscles delight at the chance to relax, as he stretches out and finally allows his exhaustion to overcome him almost as soon as his head hits the thin pillow.

_“Where is it?”_

_Kriff, if they asked him that one more time, he’d…well, he wouldn’t do much of anything. Not like he could move much beyond tilting his head from side to side being restrained to this chunk of metal._

_Poe remains silent._

_He’s rewarded with another uppercut to his chin. His teeth clack together and his jaw shifts to take the pressure, but his whole head throbs with the reverberation of the blow. He shuts his eyes, trying to alleviate the feeling that his brain is trying to push its way out. He grunts, then coughs, tasting the metallic tang of blood in the back of his throat coming from who knows where._

_“It’s a simple question,” his tormentor sneers. Just another faceless First Order officer, honestly he can’t keep them all straight anymore. It’s as if they’re all just lining up to take their chance to see if they can break him._

_He will die before he breaks._

_Poe smiles, what he hopes is, a bloody smile and one that can infuriate this man. That’s all he will give him._

_“What do you find so amusing?” the man chides, none too pleased._

_“The fact that you think that using me as a human punching bag will make me want to tell you all my secrets like we are best friends having a little chat.”_

_The next blow to his chin is somehow worse. Poe was able to brace himself earlier, but this one came off guard and he bites down on his tongue. He cries out, despite trying to keep it in, as more blood spills out of his mouth down onto his shirt. He gingerly tries to close his mouth, but the tip of his tongue feels as if someone set it on fire. Poe breathes heavily as he tries to gather his thoughts back together._

_Poe blinks, and the man is gone. One gone, to be replaced by another, just as sadistic, or worse. He tries to make the best of this moment of rest, as they come few and far between._

_It doesn’t last long, as the airlock on the door flies open and another person enters. Poe closes his eyes and feigns unconsciousness._

_“I didn’t know you had a friend on board this ship.”_

_Poe eyes open immediately. “Wh—what?” A  new man with bright red hair, immaculately styled, stands before him. Poe guesses he is a general based on his insignia._

_“I said, I didn’t know you had a friend on board this ship. I mean that has to be the explanation. None of_ my _soldiers would ever try to break you out.”_

_“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”_

_Behind him, the heavy footsteps of stormtroopers march into his cell, dragging one of their own in on their knees. They are tossed on the ground in front of the general. The two troopers keep their blasters pointed at them as the general kneels down to the offending trooper._

_“We caught this one trying to get into your cell without any clearance. After a pathetically brief interrogation, we determined he wanted you to help him get out of here.”_

_Poe’s eyes widen, and suddenly he’s hit with an intense feeling of recognition. He knows who is under that stormtrooper’s mask, before the general lifts it off, exposing the man’s face cowered in fear and those eyes, his warm eyes…_

_“Finn!” Poe screams as the general raises his blaster to Finn’s head and…_

Poe jolts awake. His breath comes in ragged gulps as he returns back to reality. His face burns red hot, half with terror, half with physical pain having ripped open the scabs forming on his cheek after he yanked his face up off the pillow. _It was just a nightmare, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real. It felt so real. Finn…_

Poe wraps his arms close around his torso, trying to steady his breathing, trying to stop the choked sobs clutching his throat and the tears running unobstructed onto his lap. _Jas will have heard that, she will know that I’m some old broken down machine that nobody can trust anymore. Can’t even be trusted alone on a small information gathering mission. What use am I anymore?_

Then Finn’s face floats to the center of his consciousness.

_Finn wouldn’t be so hard on you, you know that. He’d be proud of you no matter what. At least I hope so._

_I hope so._

Poe lingers on the thought of Finn waking up while he sits beside him. Being the first person Finn sees after both of their ordeals. Knowing that someone cared so much for you. That’s what will keep him going. Make Finn proud, make Leia proud. He hasn’t lost yet. He’s just getting started.

Poe lays his head back down and finally drifts off into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who have been reading thus far, all of your encouragment means so so so much to me! I'm excited to keep writing every day now and I seem to always have ideas floating around lately, which is fun. Good to keep creativity flowing!
> 
> Chapter title from [Siberian Breaks](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tCUc3Kbphr4) by MGMT


	7. i'm in the city you hated, my eyes are fallen

Poe wakes up feeling rested for the first time in what feels like months. As he walks to rejoin Jas in the cockpit, he feels renewed vigor for his purpose and his mission. Almost as energized as he felt that rainy night he devoted himself to the Resistance.

Jas is sleeping as he enters, the hum of the ship creating a calming lull. He sat back in the pilot’s seat. The shifting of his body against the leather was enough to rouse her from her slumber.

“Oh,” she mutters, wiping her mouth, “I’m—I’m sorry I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“It’s alright,” Poe says, “We’re still here in one piece, so I _guess_ I can forgive you.”

She grunts a response as she adjusts herself out of the uncomfortable position she somehow fell asleep in. “How—how did you sleep?” she asks, suddenly focusing her intense gaze at Poe.

He tries to ignore the feeling of dread creeping up, unsure of how much noise he made during his nightmare episode last night, and how much of that she noticed. “Fine,” he says, feigning indifference, trying to look distracted at the ship’s panels. She seemed to be taking an awful long time to respond as he feels her gaze burn deeper into him.

“Good,” she says, curtly. A long pause, “So, what is the plan?”

Thankful for a change of subject, Poe is only slightly annoyed at having to re-explain the plan he laid out last night. “We’re pretending to be traders, remember?”

“Yes, yes I know that, but beyond that. What do we do once we actually land? Are we going to make a trade or just run off to find this library?”

“I’m hoping we don’t have to make a trade. I mean we can, but the cargo I have is really embarrassingly scant. We just need clearance to land near the city center. The library is located just west of the old Senate buildings. It’s open to the public, apparently, but barely any civilians go in there. That was the red flag that brought it to our attention”

“Why would the First Order conduct business in a public place?” Jas asks.

“I have no idea,” Poe says, “It makes no sense and it makes perfect sense at the same time. What better way to throw everyone off but to hid in plain sight? There must be a back room, or an underground space or something like that.”

“Alright,” Jas sighs, “Well I suppose we shouldn’t waste anymore time. The longer we wait, the longer we give them to come back and pick up the pieces.”

Poe smiles, “Let’s do this.”

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Poe gently eases the ship out of hyperspace and into the atmosphere of Coruscant. Once the bustling capital of the galaxy, it lost a bit of its luster when the duties of capital passed to the Hosnian system. The grim thought of that entire system being eviscerated at the touch of a button enrages Poe and motivates him to keep going. No person or group should hold the power to wipe an entire planet or set of planets from existence.

The tall spires of buildings come into view as Jas and Poe approach the city center. Poe never really liked cities. He grew up in sprawling forests with room to spread out and run around aimlessly. Cities were too structured and fully formed, with no room to grow. It’s almost claustrophobic, the feeling Poe gets whenever he’s in a large city. No chance to see behind your shoulder, forced to walk the streets in a grid. The total opposite of flying to him. He avoids the city when he can, but for now he tries to shrug off the imposing feeling creeping in as they make their way closer.

The coordinates that Poe gave Jas to input for their landing were accepted without any issue. They let out a collective breath, but only dared to hope that it truly meant that this was going according to plan. The runway lights blink in the distance and Poe engages the ship’s landing protocol.

“Keep an eye out,” he says, flipping a switch behind his left ear, “there will probably be someone to greet us. I just want to be prepared for what we have to say.”

“Which is?”

“I’m still working on that.”

Poe extends the landing gears, the bottom of the ship shaking with the pressure. Landing a ship was his least favorite part of flying, not just because it meant he wasn’t home in the air anymore, but because it is always such a jarring transition back to the ground no matter what ship he is flying. Poe hovers the ship carefully above their landing spot and then gently touches her down. The worst of it is over, or at least he hopes.

“Dameron, I think we’ve got some friends.”

Poe looks over his console and sees at least five patrol units approaching their ship. He allows the flash of fear to come and go, then steels himself for conflict. He knew this would probably happen. He just hopes that their cover story works as well as he’s passed it off to be.

“We will be fine. Let me handle it,” he says, not letting his doubt seep into his voice.

“You’ve finished figuring out what you’re going to say?”

“For the most part,” Poe gets up from his seat and heads towards the hallway, “Don’t open the hatch until you see me get into the cargo hold.”

Jas nods, the tension in the small confines of their ship running high. With neither sure whether they can fully trust the other, they can definitely agree that whatever awaits them can’t be good.

Poe walks down the narrow hallway, trying to steady his heartbeat that is pounding with adrenaline. As much as he hates to admit it (but everyone knows), he thrives on the moments where he has to rely only on his instinct, whether in the sky or on the ground. This is where Poe can truly feel like he’s living, as long as he’s in control. And for now, he feels like he’s in control.

He enters the cargo hold, the room bathed in a low red light. He closes the door behind him, and as soon as it latches behind him, he feels a shudder beneath his legs as the hatch begins to lower to the ground. _Perfect timing Jas,_  he thinks, realizing the two might be more in tune with each other than he might have initially guessed.

Sunlight floods the cargo hold, as Poe squints to adjust his eyes to the onslaught of brightness that invades his world none too subtly. He walks forward to the ramp that is now on the ground. His eyes still adjusting, he can see the patrol units congregated just outside. He takes a deep breath and begins to descend.

“Well this is a warm welcome,” Poe says, grinning as wide as he can.

“State your name and your business here,” responds one of the uniformed officers, getting off her speeder bike. Poe looks her up and down, but he sees no defining insignia on her blue uniform to determine where, or more importantly who, she comes from.

“I’m sorry, I thought my partner transferred the information. We are traders here to conduct business.”

“State your name and your business here,” she repeats in her unsettlingly monotone voice.

Poe opens his mouth to respond, but suddenly the attention of the patrol turns upward as Jas makes her way down the ramp.

“Whoa, it’s a party!” she exclaims.

Poe sees the five officers instinctively reach toward their blasters. He reaches his hands out, waving, “No, no that’s not necessary. We are just humble traders here to do business with Songul the Hutt.” Poe looks back to Jas for affirmation, widening his eyes in plea.

“Yes, um, that’s why we are here,” she begins hesitantly, but gains confidence with every word she says, “We’ve been scavenging for months and were told we could get a fair price here. Please. We just want to feed our family.”

_Feed our family. Nice touch._

The female officer still holds her hand near her blaster, but hasn’t taken it out yet. “State your names.”

“Norra,” Jas says, “And this is…”

“Finn,” Poe blurts out the first name he thought of, looking back to see Jas nodding at his response.

The woman turns to her colleagues and confers with the man standing closest to her. The other three stand at attention, ready to strike at any moment. Poe realizes that he’s been holding his breath for too long. As his head begins to swim, he takes in a cautious breath as the woman steps back towards them.

“We will give you an escort to Songul’s trading post,” she intones.

“No!” Poe exclaims, a little too loudly, “I mean, it’s alright. He can’t be that scary. Besides we don’t have a lot to carry.” He laughs nervously, as the woman’s expression fails to change at anything he has to say to her.

“This isn’t optional,” she says, motioning to the other four to make their way up the ramp to their ship.

Before Poe can think of what to do, Jas steps forward towards the incoming guests, “Come on in, you can see what we have isn’t much.”

Poe stares at Jas, confused, but she shoots him a big confident grin. He has no choice but to trust her at this point because he had run out of ideas for now. She disappears within the cargo hold with the four officers. Poe looks nervously over at the woman, who remained outside with him.

“Aren’t you going to join your partner?” she asks.

“I could say the same for you,” he chides, eliciting a response none too pleased.

A loud thud from inside the ship causes the two of them to jolt, turning to look up the ramp. A grunt, another thump, and Poe makes to run up the ramp. The woman is faster than he is and is already halfway up when she turns to face him, and for the second time in less than a day, Poe finds a blaster pointed right at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the lovely encouragement and comments and kudos! Hope you're all having as much fun as I am!
> 
> Chapter title from [Slipped](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fRyHDBWKLzI) by The National


	8. weren't we like a battlefield, locked inside a holy war

“Whoa! This isn’t necessary,” Poe yells, his hands reflexively reaching upward. He starts walking backward as the woman advances on him, her eyes blazing.

“Get on your knees!” she screams, looking over her shoulder quickly then right back at Poe. He considers for a moment defying her, but just as soon as he is about to make up his mind, he feels a blaster fire whip right past his shoulder.

“Hey!” he exclaims, nearly tripping over his own feet in surprise. He didn’t expect her to shoot at him. At all.

“The next shot won’t miss! Get on your knees!”

Poe fumes, his breathing labored. This was not how this was supposed to go. He looks up and sees another one of the officers descending the ramp after hearing the shot fired. The woman hears the commotion behind her and looks over her shoulder again for a split second. Bad decision.

Poe leaps forward, grabbing her arm holding the blaster and pushing it down towards the ground with all of his strength. She reacts immediately, pulling the trigger, but her shot only makes a crater in the ground beneath them. Poe turns himself to stand perpendicular to her and raises his leg into her stomach. She doubles over, loosening her grip on the blaster. A bit of a struggle, and Poe rips it from her hand. It goes flying across the ground, clattering to a stop next to another ship. Poe grabs his own blaster from his holster and points it at the man who joined this fray, who is reciprocating the measure, holding his own blaster at Poe.

“Put it down!” yells Poe, alternating his aim at the woman still keeled over on the ground and the man advancing at him, “Take one more step, and I will shoot!”

“No you won’t,” the man taunts, still walking towards Poe.

“Try me,” Poe growls.

It happens in a flash, Poe sees the glint in the man’s eyes and then the slight squint. That almost imperceptible motion of eyes focusing on a target and there’s no more time for taking chances. Blaster fires rings out a third time. Poe was faster this time.

The man slumps over and falls to the ground with an unceremonious thud. Heart racing, Poe turns and runs to collect the blaster a few feet away from him.

“You won’t get away with this, you know!” Poe hears the woman’s voice cry out, a slight twinge of fear punctuating her words. Poe turns around to see that she is back on her feet, albeit hunched over.

 “’Humble traders’ you say?” the woman says, holding her abdomen in pain, “Wrong, we had you in our sights as soon as you broke atmo. Those coordinates you gave us are a week old. Who do you work fo—“

The woman’s eyes widen, as Jas comes into view from behind her, holding a needle to her neck. Her eyes roll back into her skull as she sinks, limp, into Jas’ arms, her blaster clattering to the ground.

“Help me here!” Jas shouts.

Poe rushes forward, grabbing the unconscious woman’s legs as the two of them lift her up and into the cargo hold of their ship. As soon as they enter, Poe sees three fellow unconscious bodies sprawled out across the floor.

“Thanks for getting that last one for me,” Jas says, winded, wiping sweat from her brow, “I had to use the last of my supply on these people. You better hope that we don’t run into any more problems along the way.”

“Did you just knock them out?” Poe asks, lowering the woman’s body to the ground.

“Yeah, though I think that one there,” Jas motions to one of the crumpled bodies, “may have sustained more damage. He was a fighter.”

Poe nods, dazing out slightly, realizing that he most likely killed the man he shot. How could the bounty hunter have stronger ethics than he did? _It’s war Poe, you’ve killed so many others. It was a split second decision. He was going to kill you first._ It doesn’t get any easier. He tries not to think of the multitude of faceless pilots he’s shot down over the years, or the countless fatalities on Starkiller. How many of them would have been like Finn? Would have left if given the chance?

“Hey. Dameron?” Jas says, breaking his brief stupor, “We’ve got to move the last one in.”

“Yeah, ok, yeah….” Poe says, processing the situation in its entirety for the first time. “Wait, we can’t just leave them here. What happens when they wake up? They could take this ship. It’s not totally clean you know.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that they could probably trace it back to the Resistance. I have an encrypted comm channel direct to headquarters, but hopefully they wouldn’t think to do that.”

Jas groans, “Why didn’t you take a ship that was completely untraceable?”

“I said ‘probably.’ If they look hard enough, they could. I need that comm link. Don’t think I’m stupid,” Poe says, darkly. “What happens when they wake up?” he asks again.

“They won’t wake up,” Jas spits, “At least not for about six hours. We’re wasting valuable time here. We go, do this mission, then come back and leave them on the runway, none the smarter. I mean unless you want to turn around and go home.”

Poe knows she’s just trying to rile him up, and _kriff_ it’s working. Poe closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and says to himself all the things he shouldn’t say out loud. “Alright, we will leave them, let’s go.”

“At least they’re leaving us their speeder bikes?” Jas says, trying to break the tension somehow.

Poe feels a grin growing on his face, an idea forming, “And their uniforms.”

After they load up the dead man (he was dead, Poe checked his pulse), three extra bikes, take away all their blasters and change into the blue uniforms of whatever these people stood for, Poe and Jas hop onto the bikes and hurtle toward the city.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The sun is just starting to crest over the horizon, casting an orange hue over all of the buildings. Poe has little time to appreciate the little bits of the city that he does enjoy as they cruise at full speed toward the old Senate building. Nobody has impeded them since they left the runway which provides a modicum of reassurance to the two of them. Every time Jas does something that infuriates Poe, she always ends up being right, which makes him less mad and more mad at the same time. _Stop being petty, she’s helping you. You’d be dead or captured twice by now._

The streets get emptier with each passing moment as the day draws to an end and the people go from their jobs to their homes. The homes where they will disconnect from the world and try to live the lives they wish they could live every moment of the day. Poe pines for the routine, the simplicity of it, but knows that he’d get bored after a day or two. He no longer looks down upon those who choose that kind of life, rather he understands why they do it and why he does not. He imagines a home in the woods again. One like the home he grew up in. Waking up to nothing to do. Waking up to the sweet smells of the trees and the clean air and a warm body by his side. Finn’s body. Poe catches himself smiling, and doesn’t try to stop it. He is only shaken from his daydream when he sees Jas has stopped moving ahead of him. He slams the brakes, skidding to a halt.

“This can’t be it,” she says, distantly.

Poe looks up at the large domed building that they’ve stopped in front of. Its opulent exterior gleams against the setting sun, standing out among the harsh lines of the taller buildings that surround it. He reads the sign in etched Aurebesh above the door: _Records and Archives of the Galaxy, Coruscant._ He looks to the sun and calculates their position from the Senate building just in front of them. This building is just west of it. _This can’t be it._

“I think this is it,” Poe says incredulously.

“When you said hiding in plain sight, I guess I didn’t think it would be so…”

“Big,” Poe says, vacantly.

“Yeah. This place is not subtle,” Jas says, shaking her head.

“Shall we go inside?” Poe asks.

“That’s what we came here for,” Jas replies.

They circle around the building and park their bikes about a block away, so as not to arouse too much suspicion. As they walk to the archive building, Poe notices that anyone they pass refuses to make eye contact with them and quickly scurry away from them. Whatever these uniforms stood for, the civilians seemed scared of them. For now, this worked to their advantage as nobody questioned their path forward. Once they reach the door, Poe stops and inhales deeply. He pushes the door open and just hopes that they aren’t walking directly into a trap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again massive thanks to all who've been reading and keeping up! I will try to keep up updating this as often as I can!
> 
> Chapter title from [The Only Thing Worth Fighting For](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mjg43nzSYck) by Lera Lynn


	9. it would only take a few seconds of darkness to figure out what's in store

The archive building seems even bigger on the inside, as the domed top reaches improbably high up. The rows of holodisplays nestled in tall wooden shelves follow the curvature of the building and reach up nearly as high. It was overwhelming and impressive at the same time. Poe wonders what he could learn about the galaxy in here, and secretly wishes he could take some leisure time in here.

While Poe absorbed the surroundings, a small protocol droid on a hovercart made its way over to them.

“Greetings, visitors, how may I assist you toda….”

Jas waves her hand dismissively, “We do not require your help. Leave us be.”

Poe is slightly taken aback by her cold tone, yet he’s thankful her ability to banish this unwanted distraction. She walks authoritatively into one of the aisles, Poe following her. She waits until the protocol droid is far enough away from them to whisper, “I think I’ve found your secret entrance.”

Poe attempts to stifle his excitement, but cannot help a small exclamation escaping his lips, “Yes? Where?”

Jas promptly shushes him, her eyes darkening, “We aren’t alone in here, not in the slightest. Right when we walked in, I saw someone notice us and duck behind the shelves just a few rows up from here. I heard a door close. Softly, but I heard it.”

“Let’s go then,” Poe says, anxiously. His nerves tingle with the prospect of accomplishing his mission. They move down along the aisle toward the wall, where they expect to find the door. They stalk quietly around the circular room, every small noise tickling Poe’s already frayed nerves. Row after row passes, each looking identical to the other. Looking for a small seam in the wall, any crack of the pattern to give it away.

“I think we’ve already passed by here,” Jas whispers.

Poe tries to orient himself. He curses himself for not giving an identifying mark to where they started from. Had they really been just circling the building multiple times by now? A jostling sound to their right catches their attention. Poe ducks into the closest aisle, Jas follows him. Footsteps grow closer, it sounds like it’s coming from the aisle next to them. Closer and closer until they stop, what feels like inches away. Poe inhales a tiny gulp of air, his heart racing so fast he feels like it’s loud enough to give them away. He glances over to Jas, whose eyes are darting in every direction.

“Follow us,” comes a deep voice from the other side of the holodisplay.

_Shit._

Jas turns to Poe, eyes wide, and steps out of the aisle. He remains frozen in place, hidden.

“Yes, sir,” she says, her face stoic.

“You _and_ your friend,” the voice says.

_Shit._

Poe steels himself, tries to appear as innocent looking as possible, and readies himself to use his best defense mechanism: his big mouth.

“Hey, sorry, I totally got lost. This building is really confusing, I mean what did the Old Republic expect when they built it?” he says, probably louder than he should, a grin plastered across his face. He turns out of the aisle and comes face to face with three men in black uniforms, again with no insignia. Not one of their faces broke from the stern, almost disgusted looks they shot toward him.

“I was told they were professionals,” one of the men, a Twi’lek, says to the others.

“And able to keep their mouths shut,” another, a pale blonde man, intones.

“I’m sorry, he’s just nervous,” Jas says, grabbing his arm and yanking him near her, “ _First big mission,”_ she half-whispers as if Poe wasn’t supposed to hear what she was saying.

No reaction.

“I was told there would be a security detail of five,” the Twi’lek says.

Five. _Kriff, were the people who stopped us on their way here? Is this an active meeting? What are we walking into?_

“The other three got caught up dealing with an unsanctioned arrival at the hangar,” Poe says, not entirely lying, “They will catch up with us later.”

The Twi’lek grunts, none too pleased at this news, “Well I suppose we will make do with you two, we are already late as it is. Come with us and _don’t,”_ he looks directly at Poe, “say _anything._ Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Poe and Jas harmonize.

The three men turn and walk a few aisles further. Jas shoots a glance at Poe as if to say _what the hell was that?_ Poe shakes his head slightly and shrugs as if to say _I couldn’t think of anything else._ The blonde man stops in near the end of an aisle, presses against the holodisplay, a small keyboard emerges. He types in something they cannot see from their distance. The end of the aisle shudders quietly and opens to illuminate a secret entrance. The Twi’lek steps through the shimmering façade and another follows. The man who typed in the codes stands, waiting. No chance for Poe and Jas to run now. Poe steps through and two steps later he feels the ground give way. He nearly stumbles all the way down the stairway he finds himself on. Gathering himself, he starts down the stairs, counting each one along the way, knowing he’d need to know an escape route. He could just feel it.

_Twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight._ The next step comes at level ground. Poe looks forward, a hallway stretches in front of him, illuminated only by a low, red light. He wills himself to keep moving, despite the growing dread he feels in the pit of his stomach. He remains calm at the fact that they still have their blasters, thankful for its weight on his right hip. Jas closes up the gap behind him, and she walks side by side with Poe now.

Thirty-six steps later, the men ahead of them stop in front of a door, an orange glow spilling out from the tiny crack. The Twi’lek reaches his hand near the handle, a small holodisplay appears. He types in another code, the display turning green to indicate his code has been accepted. He turns the handle and enters the room, the other man who walked ahead of them enters as well. Jas makes to enter, but the blonde man who had been walking behind them grabs her by the shoulder.

“You aren’t coming inside, you are to stay out here and do your job,” he says, entering the room and closing the door before Poe could even react.

“What the…” Poe exclaims, a bit too loudly.

Jas shushes him instantly, putting her hand outward as if to stop his movement as she looks back the hallway in the direction they entered from. Someone else was coming.

“Stand at attention,” she whispers, barely audible, “don’t make eye contact.”

Poe stands against the wall, straightening his back, fixing his gaze forward. He and Jas stand on opposite sides of the door as if to feign guarding it. His eyes struggle to find a point to focus on in the dim light, his mind struggles against the temptation to look at who is coming to join this meeting. Whatever they stumbled into, this wasn’t routine. This feels important.

The footsteps grow closer, maybe two people, the pace hastens as they approach the door. _Don’t make eye contact, but absorb what you can._ Poe squints in the darkness to take in as many details as he can. One man, oh wait, it’s a woman, passes him, giving him and Jas no attention as she opens the hidden holodisplay. The other passes in front of him, and even in this light Poe sees him, a slender man with shockingly red hair. _The red hair. I know him. I’ve seen him—Ren’s ship. He—he was there. Was that just my dream? It was real. It had to have been real. I know him._

Poe lets out a choked gasp instinctively. His knees weaken, but he clenches his legs together, trying to keep himself upright. In a split-second decision, he turns the gasp into a coughing spell, which he exaggerates in order to turn his face down. _He can’t see me, he can’t see me._ Poe can feel the red-haired man’s gaze burning into the back of his neck, probably wondering who the hell this man is who can’t get it together.

“I’m sorry,” he hears Jas quietly plead, as he peripherally sees her try to usher the two of them in.

“I expected better,” he heard the man say, his condescending tone so familiar. Poe bites his lip, still bent over, trying to stop the flood of memories threatening to make him completely lose control. He looks up, to where Jas is standing to give her an apologetic look, but instead for a moment, he catches the man’s gaze. His features written with disgust as their eyes meet, and right as he enters the room, recognition?

The door closes, Poe falls to the ground.

_Breathe Poe, breathe. He probably didn’t recognize you._

_He totally recognized you. He knows who you are. He knows. He knows._

“I know him,” he says breathlessly, as Jas kneels down to his side.

“What the _hell_ was that?” she spits, gritting her teeth so she doesn’t shout.

“I know who he is. I think….he knows who I am.”

Jas leans in closer to Poe, glancing around to make sure nobody else is coming in, “How do you know him?”

“Remember how I told you,” he says quietly in between heavy breaths, “I was on a Star Destroyer? The First Order? He was there. I remember him. He was there. He tor…” Poe trails off, shaking his head, as if the physical movement can ward away the images assaulting his mind. _The metal chair. The restraints. The interrogator droid. The man with the red hair…_

“Hey I need you to calm down. I don’t know what he did to you, but we aren’t safe here,” she rests her hand on his shoulder, peeks up to look down the hallway and continues urgently, “We need to leave. We still have our weapons. Remember when I asked you if you could give up your mission if you needed to?”

Poe nods, still looking down, steadying his breathing. He feels her cup his chin and pull it up to look at her.

“We need to leave. Will you come with me? Will you leave your mission?”

_There is a big meeting happening here, you need to find out why._

_You’re out of your depth._

_You can’t just abandon your mission, Poe._

_You’re not going to make it out of here if you don’t leave now. You got your information. Finn. You have to go home to Finn._

“Yes.”

“Good, let’s go,” Jas grabs Poe’s arm and he wills his body to stand up, “come on.” She takes off running, and Poe is hot on her heels. They reach the steps quickly, Jas is already halfway up as Poe begins his ascent.

_One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Sev—_

It’s as if someone has erected an invisible wall directly in front of him. His forward progress halted, Poe makes to turn around to see what is stopping him, but he can’t move. His limbs feel like lead; he tries to breathe but his chest is compressed against the force holding him in place. _The Force._

Tendrils of fear snake around every fiber of his being, his breaths come out in small spurts as he struggles fruitlessly to move. _Maybe this is just another dream, I will wake up soon, I will wake up, this can’t be happening again…_

“Going somewhere?” comes a monotone voice from behind him, each syllable distorted from a vocalizer. _No. No. Please no._

A gloved hand grasps the back of Poe’s neck. He shudders and then, darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no oh no things aren't going well! But then why is it so much fun to write??
> 
> Thanks to all who have been reading, you guys keep me going even when I think I'm hitting a metaphorical wall!
> 
> Chapter title from [The Handshake](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mvJcKcdam6I) by MGMT


	10. just outside, the sound of pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: torture, injury
> 
> ***I've been trying to update the tags/warnings etc. as this fic progresses. It will probably continue to be updated as things get worse for our poor guy, but please please let me know if I'm missing something!***

_“I thought you said you had this under control, General. Nobody else was supposed to know about this.”_

_“Don’t you accuse me of lack of planning. The Supreme Leader himself signed off on…”_

_“You are lucky the Supreme Leader is not here right now. He would be quite disappointed that we couldn’t even hold a simple meeting without interruption.”_

_“You are not spotless in this either, Ren._ You _are lucky that I recognized the danger before we could begin. If we are to rebuild, we cannot be so trusting anymore. We were found.”_

_A pause._

_“Regardless, we must now deal with this…diversion.”_

_“I will see to it. I will see to it so that we may rise back to our full power without anymore interference by the damned Res—”_

_“Quiet.”_

_Another pause, longer this time._

_“He is awake.”_

Poe feels a forceful shove to his right shoulder and he jolts, his eyes opening. He’d been feigning unconsciousness as long as he could, hoping that if he kept his eyes closed, it would be just another bad dream. The reality of his situation comes crashing down on him in an instant as the shove knocked him precariously off-balance from the chair he found himself sitting in. He reaches his hands out in front of his to catch his fall and realized they were shackled together. He yelps as his left wrist cracks against the pressure of his body weight falling against the heavy cuffs. The pain jolts up his arm but he has no time to register it as he hits the floor with a loud thump.

“What did he hear?” the red-haired man says, his eyes wild.

Poe squints to focus on his surroundings, his cheek pressed to the ground. He attempts to shift his body weight onto his shoulder to prop him up. He sees black boots approaching him, the sound of leather on leather rubbing together as someone kneels down toward him.

Kylo Ren.

The figure that had haunted his dreams and his waking thoughts was again right in front of him. Poe had tried so hard to repress what happened to him the first time they were acquainted that he’d almost managed to turn him into merely a character in his thoughts instead of a real person, a real threat.

“Let’s find out, shall we?” comes that distorted voice, as Poe feels a hand running through his hair, pulling it and him upward. Poe’s breathing is shallow as he stares into that cold mask. He knows what is coming and he tries to brace himself, but nothing can prepare him for that feeling.

It’s the worst headache you’ve ever had in your life. As if someone is taking a hot knife to your brain, the pressure behind your eyes threatening to push them out of your skull. Your nerves fire out signals left and right, completely overriding any voluntary movement. Your body struggles fruitlessly to reject its new host, but with every breath, with every thought, the grip tightens. The more you release to the pain, the stronger it holds you.

Poe bites his lip to hold back the screams, tasting blood. He replays in his mind the conversation he had woozily listened into moments before. Then, as if rewinding an old holorecording, his mind takes him back through arriving to Coruscant, lingering on Jas and what she looks like. _Where did she go? Had they gotten her too?_ His trail of thought was violently ripped away as Ren’s probe regains control and scrapes deeper into his mind. Scenes selectively play through his memories, the bar fight, talking with Snap before he left, talking with General Leia. When her face swam to his consciousness, Poe felt a surge of anger and resentment that wasn’t his. Poe can barely hear himself now screaming in the present as his memories continue to wander back to the Resistance base and kissing Finn’s forehead before he left. The feelings that bubble into Poe’s mind when he thinks about Finn cause his tormentor to recoil for a moment, which is enough for Poe to pull himself out.

The release is sweeter than anything Poe has ever felt in his life. The moment doesn’t last as the ecstasy at the lack of pain is quickly replaced by the fear that had occupied his being just prior. His breath comes in ragged gulps, his vision obscured by the tears flowing freely.

“He heard nothing important.”

“Are you sure?”

“Are you questioning me?” Ren says, darkly.

“What should we do with _him?_ ” Hux motions to Poe’s trembling body.

“Bring him to the ship, but not yet. I have to send a correspondence to the Supreme Leader. I will call for you when I am ready. Can I trust you to do that simple task, General Hux?”

“Yes, _sir,”_ Hux spits, through gritted teeth as Ren leaves the room, the door slamming behind him. “Put him back on that chair!”

Poe’s arms are grabbed roughly by the blonde haired man from earlier and the woman he saw Hux enter with. He yells out as his left wrist, which _has_ to be broken, slams against the cuffs as he is lifted off the ground and dragged back to the chair he started off in.

Hux storms over to where Poe is now sitting, slumped over, trying to catch his breath. “How _dare_ you make me look like a fool?”

“I think you were doing a fine job of that yourself without my help,” Poe says, daring to let out a small laugh.

Hux, furious, slaps Poe across the cheek, opening a few of the glass wounds from the night before. Poe’s face flushes with the impact, but he looks up to meet Hux’s gaze, a determination rising within him. “You’re never going to win this.”

Another slap comes; the impact reverberating across the small room. Hux grabs Poe’s chin and pulls his face so close that Poe can feel the man’s breath. “We hired private security for this meeting and they alerted us to your presence immediately. We dispatched them to intercept you. Now, I don’t know what you’ve done to them, or how you’ve managed to take their clothes. Please spare me the sordid details. But it sure doesn’t look like you’re winning.”

Poe feels his bottom lip curling into a snarl, meeting Hux’s intense gaze with one of his own.

“I remember you, Resistance scum,” Hux growls, “I remember hearing how Ren tore you apart the first time; I’m so happy I got to see it for myself this time.”

Poe spits at Hux, the wad of saliva hitting him right in the eye. Hux lets go of Poe’s chin and recoils, wiping at his face. Poe can feel his heart beating in his ears, the adrenaline coursing through his veins giving him tunnel vision. The fear momentarily replaced by anger. Anger that he ended up in this situation again; anger at the fact that this should have been an easy, quick mission.

Hux lunges at Poe, but Poe is slightly quicker, kicking his legs outward hitting one of Hux’s legs sending him tumbling to the ground. The blonde haired man reached out to grab Poe, but he’s already on his feet. He skirts the table in the middle of the room, littered with various tablets and holoprojectors. He wishes he could grab something, but there’s no time. His focus fixed solely on the door in front of him. It’s only a few steps ahead, but why does it feel miles away? Poe hears Hux yelling incoherently behind him, has he given himself enough of an advantage?

Poe reaches the door, but how does it open from the inside? He pushes his body weight against it, fruitlessly. He is about to push again, when he feels a blow to his torso and his entire body feels like it went up in flames. The man had taken out a stormtrooper issued stun baton, he realizes, as he is hit again in the back. Poe cries out and crumples to the floor before he can even react to fight back.

Hux comes over and kicks Poe in the stomach. “I’m going to make you regret that! I’m going to make you regret that over and over again,” He seethes, “ _That_ is a promise.”

Hux grabs Poe by the neck and holds him up against the door. Poe coughs and sputters, struggling to breathe. Hux’s eyes gleam with untold excitement as he spits in Poe’s face. Poe flinches, trying to lash out but his head is swimming due to lack of oxygen.

“You’re never getting out of this, I will guarantee that myself,” Hux whispers, directly into Poe’s ear, “None of your little friends will be coming for you. None of my soldiers will dare help you.”

“You want to bet on that?” Poe manages to croak.

Hux tightens his grip on Poe’s neck, the world closing in on him as he tries to gasp for air.

“Sir?” comes the woman’s voice, “We are wanted back on the ship.”

Poe has never been more thankful to be summoned to Kylo Ren’s ship as Hux loosenes his grip on his throat and he drinks in breath after breath of air, his head pounding.

“Get up,” Hux shouts. Poe lifts his heavy head up, unable to move beyond that. Hux, displeased by his lack of action, grabs Poe under his left arm and pulls him up to his feet. Poe nearly blacks out as his broken wrist again slams against the shackles keeping his arms locked together. His voice breaks as he yelps in pain. He feels another set of arms on his right side catching him and keeping him upright.

“Move,” commands Hux as the door slides open. Poe glances over to see the woman inputting a code to open the door, wistfully wishing he knew that earlier. He doesn’t even register his legs moving, but he finds himself walking out the door and down the hallway that he’d just been in. How naïve he had been, thinking he could have accomplished anything here. He should have listened to Jas when she warned him against this. He should have just stayed home with Finn. Finn. Who he would probably never see again.

They reach the stairs, twenty-eight of them. Poe counts on the way up.

_One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Eight-seven. Two-one…Finn. Finn, I’m so sorry. I wanted to come home to you._

Lost in thought, he barely registers that they've left the archive building and stand outside looking up at Ren's transport. It is night. The breeze ruffles Poe's hair and he wonders when he will get to feel that again. A shove, and he is pushed up the ramp and into the loading dock. The ramp lifts up as the moonlight is slowly extinguished with a deafening finality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments and encouragement, you are all the best!!
> 
> Chapter title from [The Only Thing Worth Fighting For](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mjg43nzSYck) by Lera Lynn


	11. i can taste the fear, lift me up and take me out of here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: torture, injury, threats of implied rape/non-con

Poe inhales sharply as the ramp closes in front of him. The world shrinks down to a microcosm in an instant. This is his whole world now. He tries to filter out the thoughts of fear and despair clawing at the back of his mind, threatening to take over his entire being. _Now is not the time to panic, you have to stay sharp. Stay sharp. Stay awake. Remember everything. You’ll get out of here._

Poe tries to remember every turn, every corner they round, which direction they are going, but as his adrenaline depletes, he stumbles. His feet are numb. Is he walking, or is he being dragged? His eyes flutter upward as the panic of losing control hits him in the pit of his stomach as he slips out of consciousness, his body unable to handle the shock any longer.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It is cold.

That is the first thing Poe notices. He shivers as he pulls his legs closer to himself to trap in any excess heat. _Why does the First Order insist on everything being freezing cold? Does that help them stay in such an awful mood?_ He snorts a small laugh despite himself. The moment of happiness fades as the stark realization of his situation hits him square in the chest.

Trapped, again.

He blinks the drowsiness out of his eyes as he adjusts to the dim lighting of his cell. There is nothing else but walls in this room, a dull chrome box where they can keep trouble locked away without a second thought. They must have moved off the transport onto a Star Destroyer as the movement through space feels less jagged underneath him. Poe is not in shackles anymore, nor is he wearing the blue uniform he had stolen earlier, rather he is in black pants and a mottled grey tunic. He tries to brush away the unsettling thought about someone changing his clothing while he was unconscious.

Poe holds back the bile churning in his stomach, his insides threatening to upend themselves on the cold, durasteel floor. Wanting to shake the feeling of being so exposed to them, and to think of anything else, Poe pushes himself up to a seated position. He rolls onto his right shoulder and pushes himself upwards. He reaches out his left hand for extra support and in doing so, an intense pain shoots up his wrist to his arm and he screams out loud, the sound echoing throughout the small room. Unable to control his already unsettled stomach, Poe vomits up whatever small ration was in there from before.

Doubled over, Poe tries to steady his breathing but his wrist feels like it has a heartbeat all its own and with every pulse, pain invades every fiber of his body. He bites his lip, holding in his breath as he shifts himself fully upward. He leans his head back against the wall, a shaky inhale as he gingerly sets his left arm into his lap. He looks down, and quickly squeezes his eyes shut as another wave of pain overcomes him. His wrist is a sickening shade of purple, extending halfway up his palm. His fingers curl inward, unable to extend without causing excruciating pain. That cracking noise he’d heard when he fell against the floor and his restraints echoes through his memory and Poe fights back another wave of nausea.

The field training inside him reminds him that he needs to immobilize his wrist before the injury gets worse. He needs his hand to fight…to fly. If he is ever going to fly again…

The only thing Poe could use to wrap his hand is the clothing he has on and he immediately decides that he can use the shirt as a makeshift bandage. For as long as they’ll let him keep it on, at least. He slips his right arm out of the sleeve and struggles to lift it over his head one handedly. He winces as he lifts his left arm up to slide the last sleeve off. Ignoring the chill setting in from the canned air inside, he begins to carefully wrap his bruised, broken wrist in the rough fabric. He blinks back tears as he ties the sleeves together tightly to keep it in place. He tests his handiwork by attempting to move his wrist forward, and he can, slightly, but that will be better than nothing.

Poe wipes the cold sweat forming on his forehead, satisfied with a job well done. He will take the small victories where he can. He leans his bare back against the cold wall, recoiling for a moment at the icy touch, but he doesn’t have the strength to keep himself upright. From this angle, he can see a bruise blossoming on his side where he was hit with the stun baton earlier. Cradling his broken body, he curls up into himself again. Halfway across the galaxy, where almost nobody knew where he’d even gone to in the first place, and wouldn’t know he was even missing.

He wonders what they want from him this time, the desperate thoughts racing through his mind unchecked. _You blew up their weaponized planet. That, along with hundreds of their troops. You’re going to be made an example of. They can’t let you go, again. They have to save face. You’re going to die here…._

Poe’s train of thought is broken by the sound of an airlock door opening behind him. _Don’t say anything, don’t answer their questions, don’t say anythi—_

The red haired general enters, flanked by two stormtroopers. Hux’s face wears a gloating smirk as he surveys his prisoner.

“Well aren’t you an eager one?”

That isn’t what Poe expected to hear.

“What?” he croaks, breaking his promise to not say anything in record time.

“You’re already undressing yourself. Normally it takes a little more…coaxing.”

The hungry look in Hux’s eyes is enough to make Poe’s insides churn even more than they already are. Poe lets out a short breath and shifts himself further away from them, but he backs himself into a corner. Hux laughs and strides over to where Poe is sitting, kneeling down to his level. Poe turns away from him, but Hux grabs his hair and pulls it toward him. Poe can feel his breath, hot upon the left side of his neck.

“Oh don’t worry, I didn’t come here for that,” Hux whispers, “but when I _do,_ I hope that you scream.”

Poe shuts his eyes and tries to turn his head away from his breath that feels like a blowtorch on his shoulder. He squirms fruitlessly as the world feels to collapse in on him. Hux yanks his head back toward him.

“Look at me!” he spits. Poe opens his eyes to see Hux’s rabid gaze fixed on him, “We are going to take _everything_ from you. I know you were there on Starkiller. I know you’re the pilot who took out the oscillator. I am going to make sure you feel the pain of _every single life_ that you took. We will take all of your secrets, it is ours. You are ours. We will take down the Resistance and it will be _all your fault._ ”

Poe can feel his blood boiling, his heart racing, half with fear and half with anger. Hux cups his trembling chin with his cold, pale hand.

“And when we take down the Resistance,” Hux hisses, “I will make sure that you get to see me _personally_ put a blaster hole in that damned traitor of yours.”

Poe is no longer in control of his body. He winds back his right arm and punches Hux squarely in the jaw. Hux recoils, taking a chunk of Poe’s hair with him. Hux shouts belligerently as he leans back in towards Poe, but he manages to land another punch to Hux’s face. Poe can’t even make out if he’s saying words as the world spins around him dangerously. Poe is on his feet now, with only one singular goal, to cause this man more pain than Poe himself is currently in. Poe reaches out to hit Hux again, but before he can, the two troopers lunge forward grabbing him by his arms. They shove Poe against the wall, his bare back hitting the cold walls with a thud. Poe kicks his legs out, thrashing against the weight of the troopers keeping him back. His breath comes out in grunts and pants.

“What do you think you’re going to accomplish?” Hux says, smirking, blood dripping from one of his nostrils. He advances toward Poe, who is still struggling against his captors, his gaze steely.

“You’re not getting anything from me,” Poe says, his voice coming out weaker than he wanted it to.

Hux merely snorts a laugh, “Make sure he is always restrained from now on. I find we were a little too lenient with this one.” Hux’s eyes dart to the bandage on Poe’s left hand, just now seeing it, currently pinned against the wall, “What is that?”

Poe feels a small jolt of panic, he needs to keep his makeshift bandage on. Hux reaches out and touches it, even the smallest contact sending shooting pain up Poe’s arm. Poe lets out a small scream as his nerves fire out angrily.

“Oh wait, this is your shirt,” Hux says, “and here was I, thinking you just wanted to be ready for me. What is this for?”

Poe sucks in a breath to ride out the waves of pain, but the reprieve never comes. Hux begins yanking out the woven knot Poe had wrapped his shirt in. Poe exhales sharply, feeling another wave of nausea as his handiwork is undone.

“It’s—it’s broken,” Poe moans, quietly, his head slumped over his shoulders.

“Oh is it?” Hux says, almost gleefully, as he lets Poe’s tangled shirt fall to the floor. Hux grabs Poe’s palm and pulls it backward. The pain is unbearable. Poe screams, his knees completely giving out. If he wasn’t being held up, he would have slumped to the floor. His vision narrows; he can hear his heartbeat in his ears and his breath comes in shallow gulps. Hux pulls Poe’s head up by his hair again, Poe squints to refocus on his face, but his eyes are watery and his vision is faint.

“This is just the beginning,” Hux says, darkly. He lets go of Poe’s hair, his head lolling to the side, unable to pick it back up. Hux spins on his heel and heads to the door. “Bring him to the interrogation chamber. We are far from finished.”

Poe hears Hux’s footsteps grow distant, as he tries for a moment to catch his breath. He is not granted that moment as the two stormtroopers pull him away from the wall. With no energy left to resist, Poe lets them twist his arms out straight as they drag him out of his cell and back into the hallway. The tips of Poe’s bare feet slam against every seam in the floor, but he barely notices. A small voice in the back of his head tells him to pay attention this time, count the steps, count the corners, but that voice gets drowned out every time his wrist is jostled. The only signals firing off in his brain are the pain receptors.

The two troopers finally come to a stop in front of a closed door, the airlock rushing up with another blast of cold air to Poe’s face. He looks up and the memories hit him square in the stomach, his chest tightening as he takes in his surroundings. The dark black walls illuminated by streaks of red light, the metal rack in the center, the low, menacing hum of the jet black interrogation droid hovering in the back corner. The feeling of complete helplessness and failure he’d felt last time, only amplifying with every passing second. Hux was right, there was nobody to help him this time.

Now all he could hope for was to not bring about the ruin of the Resistance, and everything and everyone he has fought for. It may be dim, but the spark of fight still burns within Poe, he just has to keep it alight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has been reading so far, you're all the very best! I'm always super excited to carve out time for writing this.
> 
> Chapter title from [Intervention](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZO7ZWfvCjBE) by Arcade Fire


	12. the nights that i twist on the rack is the time that i feel most at home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: torture, mind probing, injury

It’s too quiet.

All Poe can hear is his own shallow breathing and the low rumble from his stomach. No longer because of nausea, he is hungry. Very hungry. He tries to remind himself that he is not a priority on the food chain here, nor should he eat anything they give to him. At least being hungry means he’s alert and awake; he can’t sacrifice that. That’s his advantage for now. He still has his wits about him. He cannot let them take that from him.

Poe inhales deeply, trying to steady his still racing heartbeat. As his lungs expand, his bare back presses harder against the metal rig they’ve restrained him to. The cold contact causes him to exhale too quickly. He hasn’t been able to stop the shivering yet, his teeth occasionally clattering, echoing through the small room.

_You can still make it out of this. You can still make it out of this. You can still—_

Poe’s face grows hot, the emotions surging inside of him despite all his attempts to keep them at bay. His eyes begin to water and he feels a numbness in his lower extremities as the hopelessness threatens to overtake him. He can’t let the doubt win.

“You can still make it out of this,” he says, out loud, making sure each word is punctuated clearly as if hearing it will make it true.

“Is that right?” comes a voice from behind him.

Poe’s breath gets stuck in his throat as he gasps loudly; he could have sworn he was alone. He cranes his neck behind him, but he can barely move and he feels his shoulder pull too hard on the movement. He grunts as he tries to realign his spine as the mystery guest rounds the corner.

Kylo Ren.

“Yes,” Poe says, his voice shaking more than he expected, “I will be out of here soon.”

“Always so sure of yourself, quite the character flaw,” Ren muses, his voice distorted by his mask.

“I could say the same for you,” Poe spits.

In a split second, Ren is right beside Poe, his gloved hand extended toward Poe’s face. Poe grimaces, waiting for the pain that…doesn’t come.

“I’ve got you well conditioned, don’t I?” Ren says, a twinge of amusement leaking out.

“Fuck you,” Poe growls, lowly.

Without facial expressions to see how his blow, of sorts, landed, Poe stares right into the unfeeling façade in front of him. Again, Ren extends his hand, and this time the pain surges in like Poe expected.

His entire body feels like it is on fire, and he is no longer in control of his own voluntary reflexes. Poe thrashes against his bonds, barely able to register the pain signals that his physical ailments trigger as his limbs crash against the metal restraints. Ren flips through his memories like pages, catching glimpses of different events, different emotions, moving on when he is no longer interested. Poe’s consciousness seeps in occasionally to try and wrangle control back, but is quickly swatted away. Ren settles on the memory of Poe and Jas arriving to Coruscant and immobilizing their private security. He plays it over again and again.

And just like that, Ren lets go. A flurry of sensations refill Poe’s mind as he attempts to grab back the reins of his own mind. Air fills his lungs and his heartbeat is erratic but there, signals that he is still alive, he is still here. His left wrist cries out in pain after having been thrust against his restraints multiple times. Poe swallows back the bile seeping up from his stomach again, the burn radiating through his chest.

“You trusted her?” Ren finally says.

“Wh—what?” Poe says, his mind still fuzzy.

“That woman, you trusted her. You shouldn’t have.”

“I still do,” Poe says, understanding now what Ren is referring to. _Where is Jas? Did she make it out ok? Maybe she sent a message to the Resistance about me!_

“She sold you out,” Ren remarks, drily.

The tiny flicker of hope Poe just lit, extinguished. He feels as if all the breath in his lungs was forcibly expelled. _No, it’s not true. She couldn’t have. He’s just messing with your head._

“She knew the bounty on your head; it was too appealing for her type.”

_She did, but she wanted to help. She said she’d help me. It wasn’t about the credits._

“It was about the credits,” Ren repeats.

“Get _out_ of my mind!” Poe yells, the emotions he’d tried to contain now bubbling to the surface. He feels his skin growing red hot again as he struggles to regain his composure.

Silence.

Even in this moment, Poe hates the silence.

“The Resistance will not be intimidated by you,” Poe says, using one of the few phrases he can remember to use when he went through training for this type of situation.

Ren laughs, a cold, hollow, metallic laugh, “You’ve already used that one on me, try again.”

“The fact that I am here means that we were onto something. You can’t win this. We will always find you,” Poe retorts.

“You’re only here because of him.”

White flashes flicker in Poe’s vision as Ren probes back into his mind, swimming through Poe’s scattered thoughts, pulling images of Finn to the surface. Poe chokes on his breath as Ren hangs onto Finn’s face, the curvature of his lips, the smooth surface of his skin, his smell that fills his nose in spite of the sterility of the hospital bed where Poe last saw him, the heat emanating from his being which reminded Poe that Finn was still alive and that he’d make it out of this.

Normally these thoughts of Finn would make Poe happy, but having them subverted and used against him was too much to bear. Poe screams and arches his body against the rack, wishing that any physical exertion could free him. As his broken wrist presses against the durasteel restraint, the pain ricochets throughout Poe’s body, and he collapses, limply. He can see stars on the edge of his vision, waiting to drift happily into oblivion, ready to finally let go and rejoin the stars…pretend you’re flying amongst the stars…until…

_SLAM._

Poe’s eyes widen further than they should, he inhales a huge amount of cold air as a dull throb pulses at his neck. Ren stands over him, as the interrogation droid hovers dangerously close, a large metal syringe protruding from its shiny black exterior, which Poe realizes he’s just been injected with. Poe blinks and blinks and blinks, trying to take control of his eyes wildly flailing around the room. He feels so awake, as if he could run the entire length of this Star Destroyer. He stretches his muscles out as far as they can go just to alleviate the tension in them.

 “You don’t get to sleep through this,” Ren murmurs, his voice an unsettling tremolo in Poe’s overexcited nerves, “You’re here because you couldn’t help him and you wanted some sense of purpose. That’s what all you _delusional_ people want. You want some sort of righteous, glorious closure to all your problems. Well it doesn’t work like that, and I am here to show you.”

Ren reaches out again towards Poe’s face, Poe closes his eyes reflexively. Instead of reaching his hand metaphorically into Poe’s head, he closes his finger physically around Poe’s neck, pressing against his veins, stopping the bloodflow for a moment, dwelling on the power he has to extinguish a life. Poe gasps as he fights to breathe, but as soon as it started, it is over. Ren releases his hand and he is gone, the airlock closing behind him.

Poe inhales.

It is too quiet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously a big thanks to anyone who has been reading this, you guys mean more than I can put into words, and apparently, I have a lot of words to use, so thank you! This chapter is kind of an interlude of sorts to get into the next big plot point, which I hope will be as impactful as I foresee it to be.
> 
> Chapter title from [My Least Favorite Life](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dFh71_ftxLE) by Lera Lynn
> 
> P.S. I'm thinking I will just do headers if I add new tags to the fic, but if you think I should do TW headers on each chapter please do let me know.


	13. you cannot take that from me, my small reprieves, your heart of gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: torture, electrocution, ongoing injury, very brief threat of non-con

_Which is worse: the anticipation of pain or the pain itself? It has to be the waiting, right? The endless seconds of time ticking away, each of them with the potential of bringing pain, but you don’t know which one it is._

Poe sighs. He hasn’t seen anyone else since Ren, in how long? Had it been one day, one hour, ten minutes? Time seems suspended in this room, moving at a pace separate from the regular goings-on in the world. How long had it been since Poe was sitting beside Finn, promising he’d be back soon? Poe shivers, shaking his head, trying to banish the fatalistic thoughts creeping into the edges of his mind.

He stretches his legs out as far as he can, willing feeling back into his legs that were going numb from disuse against the rack. He flexes the fingers of his right hand, curling them into a fist, pressing his nails into his palm. He considers doing the same on his left hand, but even the idea of moving any of his damaged nerves sends pain signals to his brain.

Poe grunts, partially from physical pain but mostly from anger. Anger that he let himself get into this mess, for what? To prove that he was “still himself?” _How fucking selfish._ And Jas…he had trusted her. She gave him her word that she would help him.

_“Remember when I asked you if you could give up your mission if you needed to?”_

_Bullshit, you just wanted me to walk into their trap. Run right into the waiting arms of the First Order so you could get your money’s worth of me._

Poe can feel the sweat dripping down onto his shoulders. He feels every muscle in his neck and face tensing up as he holds his breath as if to hold in the emotions that very suddenly have bubbled to the forefront. He throws his body weight against his restraints, injuries be damned, he just cannot be restrained right now…he needs to move. The desperation he’d tried so hard earlier to ward away has completely consumed him now. He screams out loud to remind himself that he still has a voice. The sound coming from his mouth is foreign and frightening even to himself.

Poe takes in a ragged breath, his eyes wide and watery. He wishes he could wrap his arms around himself, for warmth, for a soft touch, for comfort. He whimpers quietly, embarrassed at how much he craves a sympathetic word, or a hug or just something other than the mantra being slowly silenced in the back of his head that everything was going to be ok.

Poe closes his eyes, squeezing out the tears still trapped above his lashes, the cool droplets running down his heated face providing a modicum of relief. He tries counting the lengths of his breath to steady himself again.

_In. One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten._

_Out. One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten._

_In. One Two Three Four Fi…_

Poe’s eyes fly open at the sound of the airlock door behind him. He stomach sinks to his feet as dread instantly replaces the tenuous calm he’d just barely established.

“Can’t come charging after me now,” comes Hux’s voice as he glides in front of Poe, “I will take all precautions necessary with you.”

Poe remains silent, staring off into the distance, refusing to make eye contact.

“Oh, have you been crying?” Hux asks, his voice affecting a mocking tone, “Is this all too much for the big, bad Resistance pilot? So sad for yourself? _How could this happen to me?_ Wishing your little friends coul—”

“Fuck off,” Poe groans, still looking away.

Hux grabs Poe’s cheeks with one hand, his vice-like grip pulling Poe’s head toward him. The mocking tone gone, his voice darkens, “Careful what you say to me. Remember you can’t hit me anymore.”

Poe finally looks at Hux, seeing the red and purple bruises blossomed on his pale skin from where he had hit him earlier and he grins. “No, but I did some good damage already, didn’t I? Purple really is your color.”

Hux slams Poe’s head against the back of the rack. The impact ricochets down Poe’s neck, temporarily immobilizing him. Black spots swim into his vision and his ears ring out with the thud of his skull on metal. The air in his lungs expel as if he’d been kicked in the stomach.

Before Poe could catch his breath, he feels the crackle of electricity surge through his entire body. Every nerve in his body fires, over stimulated. He can feel each vertebrae in his back tingle and hum, while the restraints at his wrists and ankles burn hot like a torch against his bare skin. Out of the corner of his eye, Poe can see Hux gleefully pressing the buttons on the rack near his shoulder. Poe opens his mouth to cry out, but his voice box is trapped within his throat, unable to move. Poe can’t remember the last time he took in a breath, panic begins to course through his veins hand in hand with the bolts of lightning hitting him at every angle.

As soon as it began, it is over. Poe gasps in the cold air that presses against his dry throat like a salve. He can hear himself groaning softly as sensation returns to his limbs none too gently.

“Remember, I _control_ you,” Hux hisses in Poe’s ear, “and to think, I was coming here to give you dinner. Maybe I will just take that away too.”

Poe is suddenly reminded how hungry he is, his stomach joining the fray, rumbling loudly for both of them to hear. It takes Poe a few more breaths before he is able to speak, “I wouldn’t take it from you anyway.”

“Oh you wouldn’t?” Hux teases, holding out a small ration bar in his hand, waving it under Poe’s nose.

Despite the pleas from his stomach, Poe turns away from it, knowing that they could just as easily drug him and take away the one thing he has left: his free will.

“It isn’t poison,” Hux remarks, “If we wanted to kill you, we would have done it already.”

“No,” Poe says, curtly.

“Fine, your loss then,” Hux says, tossing it over his shoulder, crumbling as it hits the floor.

An uncomfortable silence falls in the room.

“Are you ever going to interrogate me, or do you just enjoy looking at me?” Poe croaks.

“Well, I imagine many people enjoy looking at you,” Hux smirks, “I most enjoy looking at you all trussed up like that, completely helpless, ready for the taking.”

Poe feels his upper lip trembling into a scowl.

“We have a use for you, don’t you worry,” Hux purrs, running his hand down Poe’s exposed chest. Poe recoils at the touch, regretting he’d even said anything. How he wishes for the silence again. Hux’s fingers lightly trail down and down. Poe bites his lip, holding his breath as Hux gets dangerously close to…

“What are you doing, General?”

Hux suddenly steps back away from Poe, his eyes widen but quickly narrow in annoyance, “He’s not only _your_ plaything, Ren.”

Kylo Ren doesn’t respond to Hux as he comes around to face Poe. Poe would give anything to see his face, just to deduce his emotions, his thoughts, anything but that blank slate menacing in front of him.

“General Hux is right, we do have a use for you. Would you like to hear it?” Ren asks.

“Nice of you to ask, but I don’t have a choice in this, do I?” Poe spits back.

“No,” Ren says simply.

“Thought so,” Poe mumbles.

“What did you say?” Hux yells, his eyes wide with anger and unfulfilled desire.

“I said, ‘I. Thought. So,’” Poe says through gritted teeth, making sure to enunciate each word overdramatically.

“No need to get riled up, General. He is no longer a threat to us,” Ren says, chiding his comrade as he strides over to Poe’s side. Ren reaches his hand to the rack towards the buttons that Hux had used earlier. Poe is given only a split second to brace himself but it’s not enough.

His frayed nerves rattle with another jolt of electricity as his limbs stiffen against the intrusion. His eyes feel as if they are trying to force themselves out of his skull as he grinds his teeth together to keep from shouting.

And then relief.

Poe is left gasping for breath again as Ren hovers over him. “He knows that he belongs to us now.”

Poe wants more than anything to tell them to fuck themselves and each other, but he knows that being smart means more pain and for right now, he can’t handle any more pain.

“We took apart your ship, the one that you thought would evade detection. Nice try, but your technology is primitive at best,” Ren says, walking back to where General Hux stands in front of Poe.

“Even the old Rebellion would scoff at what you all have,” Hux jeers. Poe inhales, brow furrowed as Ren brushes away Hux’s aside.

“We picked through your comms and found an encoded transmission line, which we can only assume is to your pitiful Resistance. You are going to open that line and talk to them so we can trace their location,” Ren explains.

“No,” Poe says, his voice steely.

“That wasn’t a choice either,” Hux says.

Ren continues as if nobody had interjected, “You will speak to them as if nothing is wrong. You will tell them that your mission is going just fine. You will give no indication that you are—”

“How clear do I need to make it that I won’t do this? No. No. No. I won’t do this,” Poe interrupts, his words spilling out, no longer concerned about himself or the pain this will cause him. He will not sell out his friends for relief.

“Oh yes you are going to do this, we can make you do—” Hux begins, but is quickly silenced by Ren.

“No, General. _He_ will. We could force him to, easily. I desire to make him _want_ to help us.”

“Never,” Poe growls, “I will die before I help _you._ ”

Ren stands there, an emotionless façade. Hux almost vibrates with manic energy. Poe’s eyes dart between the two men as the adrenaline courses through his veins. With a sudden reason to survive and fight dangling in front of him, Poe feels his strength daring to creep back into his being.

“We will see about that. Sleep _well,_ Dameron,” Ren says, motioning to Hux as they leave the room. Poe is slightly taken aback, as this is the first time he’s heard Ren say his name. He’s also surprised that they haven’t assaulted him again. How did they expect to convince him to help them if not by physically torturing him? Not that it was a bad thing, Poe is thankful for the slight reprieve, but he knows it cannot last long. _They’re just priming you for the worst yet to come._

Poe closes his eyes, in this darkness he could pretend he is somewhere else. He could pretend that he was back at the base…no, somewhere different…he is back home on Yavin IV in the lush green forests. It’s quiet, the air is clean, and in the distance he can hear a voice calling him home for dinner. Finn’s voice. His sweet, dulcet tones echo in his mind. Poe smiles as he gets up to rejoin Finn. Walking freely through the grass, no responsibilities, no fighting, just existing. Just eating and breathing and sleeping. Poe reaches the door and as he opens it…

A klaxon sounds loudly.

Poe shakes his head, where could that sound be coming from in this paradise?

The blaring beats into his eardrums relentlessly as a bright light floods his field of vision.

Poe gasps as his eyes open to his actual surroundings. The once dim room is suddenly brighter than the suns as he struggles to focus on the harsh lines of the walls. That deafening wailing continues to pulse through his head, Poe wishing his arms were free to cover his ears from the cacophony.

And then it stops.

The room darkens and quiets. The silence is replaced by Poe’s beating heart and staggered breathing. He waits for someone to come in to continue the torment but nobody comes. His first thought is that the ship was being boarded by his saviors and that caused the alarm, but Poe chides himself, knowing that nobody knew where he is.

The second time the noise and light happens, Poe thinks it to be a fluke, or maybe a call to attention.

The third time, Poe swims back to consciousness reluctantly, having almost fallen asleep.

The fourth time, Poe finally realizes it.

They are keeping him awake. He won’t sleep until he obeys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who continues to join in and read the silly things I have to write. Your responses have meant so so much to me and I am so grateful to every single one of you. Thanks for sticking around as things seem to just get worse for our poor guy!
> 
> Chapter title from [The Only Thing Worth Fighting For](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mjg43nzSYck) by Lera Lynn


	14. the whisper of two broken wings, maybe they're yours, maybe they're mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: torture, sleep deprivation, ongoing injury, mind probe, very heavy threat of rape/non-con

Poe loses count by the twentieth time he’s been jolted awake. The noises and the lights occur at random intervals, so Poe can’t tell how long it’s been since this torment began. The idea of this being indefinite claws at the back of Poe’s consciousness, threatening to drive him completely mad.

_This is never going to end, you’ll never sleep again. They’re going to break you and you’ll fail once again. Ren didn’t even have to pull it out of you, you’re going to give it to him gratefully._

Poe slams his fists against the rack, the shooting pain of his injured wrist barely registering in his exhausted mind. It’s almost as if his nerves have given up telling him he’s in pain since it’s a constant now. Poe’s breathing quickens, each one feeling like he’s not pulling in enough air. A surge of panic overtakes him as his body goes numb but his mind moves around at hyperspeed. His skin feels clammy and sweaty at the same time as his breathing becomes more erratic.

It happens again.

Poe screams against the blaring alarms going off, just to release the energy his body can’t seem to shake. His throat protests as he just yells and yells but he can’t hear himself but he needs to hear himself to prove that he is still here.

Ten times later, General Hux returns.

Poe is almost relieved, but that is short lived because he knows that he has to refuse again which only means his situation won’t change.

“I slept so well tonight,” Hux says, a massive grin growing on his face, “I feel very rested, how about you?”

Poe blearily tries to focus, but he isn’t tired enough to not get pissed off. Actually his tiredness is _adding_ to his terrible mood, “You think you’re so fucking hilarious, don’t you.”

“Don’t test me,” Hux growls, his voice darkening. He grabs Poe’s hair and pulls his head back against the rack. Every hair follicle feels like it’s on fire as every sensation is amplified. Poe grunts as he closes his eyes to try to brace against the pain, “Are you going to help us?” Hux asks.

“No,” Poe moans as he registers every single hair that is parting with his scalp.

“Help us and you can sleep, I’ll even let you sleep in my bed,” Hux murmurs, brushing his free hand against Poe’s cheek.

“Definitely no, then,” Poe croaks.

“Fine,” Hux says, disappointment evident. Hux releases Poe’s hair, letting his head slam against the metal rack as Poe has no energy to keep his head up. Hux leaves unceremoniously and Poe remains motionless, unable to physically move. His shallow breath reverberates off the wall, his chest feeling heavy with inhale. His bottom lip trembles as the desperation finally begins to take over. His emotional exhaustion causes his carefully guarded floodgates of sadness and hopelessness and frustration to break to pieces. Poe begins to sob quietly, his head lolling off to one side, the tears dripping into a small puddle on the floor. The red floorlights reflect on it and one would almost think it was blood instead.

After five more times, Poe begins to hallucinate.

Images of his childhood mix with memories of starfights he’s been in. He feels like he is flying through the stars one moment, and running through the grass in another. Every sound, however small, startles Poe. His eyes feel completely dried out, as if he has no more moisture left in his body. His heart races as he disconnects gradually from his reality. Poe can’t tell, but he is muttering words, phrases, disjointed sentences. He can’t remember the last time he closed his eyes.

Seven times later, Kylo Ren re-enters the room, but Poe doesn’t notice.

He hears Kylo Ren say something, but is that real? Is this just his imagination?

Words are being said, but Poe can’t interpret the sounds entering his ears anymore. Nor can Poe understand what sounds his throat is making or the letters his lips are forming.

Poe fights with every ounce of strength he has left to understand what is going on as he slightly swims back to reality for a moment.

“Do you want this to end?” he hears, the voice seems so distant and far away.

“Yes,” Poe says breathlessly.

He sees, through his blurred vision, a black arm extend toward him and then, blissful unconsciousness.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Poe wakes suddenly, but naturally. No loud, endless noise, no bright lights. Forgetting momentarily where he is, he tries to reach his arm up to wipe away the sleep from his eyes but it jams against his restraints instead. He yelps out in pain as he also remembers that his wrist is broken.

Blinking away the tears that sprung up instinctually, Poe realizes he fell asleep. _No. Did I give in to them?_

Panic clutches his stomach, his brief moment of peace shattered by his harsh reality.

The door behind him whooshes open.

“Shit,” Poe mutters, trying to get his pounding heart to calm down.

“Enjoy your rest?” Hux’s chides.

“I’m not going to help you,” Poe says, defiant. The short rest has refueled enough of his energy to be difficult as possible for them.

“Oh yes you are. You agreed to. That’s the only reason we let you sleep.”

“I was hallucinating, I probably couldn’t have told you my full name much less give consent to do anything in your favor.”

“Who ever said anything about _consent?_ ” Hux snarls, “I don’t care about your _intent_ behind your words, you agreed to it.”

“Why did you even _fucking_ put me through this if it didn’t matter anyway?” Poe says through gritted teeth, struggling to contain the emotion that is still raw at the surface.

“Because we wanted to.”

“Who’s ‘we?’ You and Ren? I can’t imagine you two working together on anything. Unless is hate-fucking each other in the back of—”

Hux backhands Poe so hard his vision blacks out for a moment. When Poe regains his surroundings, he can feel a tooth loose in the back of his mouth from the impact. The metallic tang of blood fills his mouth. He spits it out, hoping to hit the ground, but instead it just dribbles onto his still bare chest. Regardless, Poe meets Hux’ manic gaze with one of his own.

Hux steps over to the controls on the rack and Poe braces for whatever punishment will be doled out this time, but nothing comes. Instead, the restraints at his wrists and ankles fly open. Poe is so shocked that even though his brain tells him to get up and run, he stays there, motionless.

“Get up,” Hux orders.

Poe is still bewildered; he blinks as he stares at Hux, uncomprehending.

“I will not give orders more than once again, get up!” he yells, giving Poe a shove forward from his shoulder. Poe’s center of balance has been out of commission for some time now, he stumbles forward. His legs, weakened from disuse, merely crumble as they meet the floor and Poe lurches forward. He reaches his hands out instinctively while simultaneously realizing that’s a terrible idea.

“No!” Poe shouts as his front body hits the cold ground supported by his right arm and then a split second later, his broken left one. The pain is immeasurable. Poe hasn’t eaten in most likely days, but he spits up bile as his mind tries to wrap itself around what just happened. His vision swims, his head dizzy. As he faintly sees Hux’s boots as they advance toward him, he curls into the fetal position to protect himself from any further injury. A rough prod on his shoulder and Poe is pushed into a seated position. He rests his head against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, for a moment, catching his breath. He can hear himself whimpering and he wishes he didn’t sound so weak, but he can’t help it at this point.

When Poe reopens his eyes, Hux is gone. Part of his brain tells him that this is his chance to make a run for it, but the other, stronger, half, asks where would he even go? Much less in this state. Just as well, he turns to the door and sees a stormtrooper standing guard. He takes a moment to look at his injured hand for the first time since he’d been strapped to that rack. He gulps as he sees the purple and red and blue bruising has spread up his palm, his fingers swollen. _If you don’t fix this you’ll never fly again. You’ll be damaged product, stuck in the control room as a pity position. The once ace-pilot. No longer useful._

Poe’s stream of consciousness is broken by Hux returning into the room carrying an orange pilot’s jumpsuit. Hux waves away the sentinel at the door. Guess it’s time to dress the part for their little charade. But wait…

“I—I never wore my pilot’s uniform here. I didn’t even carry one on my ship. Wh—where did you get that?”

Hux considers the question for a moment, then a slight smile, “Let’s just say it was _posthumously_ donated to us.”

Poe’s heart skips a beat as he wonders who that belonged to. What happened to them? Was their fate soon to be his own?

“They’ll notice,” Poe says, trying to mask the tremble in his voice, “If we are trying to make them believe—”

“I don’t care,” Hux says, impatient, “Just put this on.” He throws the jumpsuit at Poe, landing just by his side after hitting him in the face.

Then he stands there.

“Do I get any privacy?” Poe asks, already knowing the answer.

“You are not to be left unattended,” Hux says, matter-of-factly.

Poe sighs, now faced with the task of somehow changing while being barely unable to move. Much less with an audience. Poe grabs the flight suit with his one good hand and opens it to slip his legs into it while still sitting down.

“No, no,” Hux chides.

“I can’t stand up right now,” Poe says quietly, embarrassed.

“That’s not what I mean,” Hux grins, “I mean those pants you have on now belong to us and we need them back. Take them off.”

Poe exhales sharply, his lower lip quivering. _No, please._

“Remember what I _just_ said about not repeating orders?” Hux threatens.

Poe gulps and closes his eyes. _Just do it as fast as you can before he can do anything to you._ He reaches down to the waistband of the pants he has on now and wriggles them loose with his right hand. He takes them off from behind first, keeping his back against the wall. Poe inhales as deeply as he can, and hand shaking, he slips them down, exposing himself to the general. Poe tries to ignore the gleeful noise Hux made, as he rapidly shoves the pants off his legs, kicking them off with his feet when he can no longer reach. He grabs the flight suit, pulling his feet toward him to put it on. Poe’s face burns bright red, he can feel the sweat forming on every inch of his body as his embarrassment grows with every passing second.

“What is your hurry?” he hears Hux ask. Poe ignores it, he is still trying to disassociate from this entire situation. Poe slips his feet in and inches them up his legs as best as he can sitting down and one-handed. As he does that, he can sense Hux getting closer and he can no longer stay quiet.

“Stay the fuck away from me,” Poe yells, his voice breaking.

Hux reaches where Poe is sitting just as Poe manages to cover himself up, but Poe finds no relief in this moment. Hux kneels beside Poe, Poe turning his head away from him. Hux’s breath burns hot on his shoulder. “Thank you for the tease,” Hux whispers. Poe bites his lip, fighting back tears. “I know that I can’t have the full experience quite yet, as we have other things to accomplish, but you’ll get a reward from me for a job well done.” Hux leans in closer and bites Poe’s earlobe. Poe yanks his head away, his heartbeat pulsing in his ear.

Poe can’t even think of words to spit out a fiery retort. He takes in a shaky breath as his world spins around him.

Hux gets up and walks back to his original position as if nothing had happened, “Get dressed, they are waiting for us.”

Poe steadies himself and quickly pulls the rest of the suit over his good arm first and then very gently over his injured one. He fastens the front shut, and sits his head against the wall for a moment. He feels like he’s been running for miles just to change his clothing. He wishes he could just sit here for eternity and do nothing, he is spent.

But that is not how this day will go.

Hux calls for his stormtroopers to reenter the room. They grab Poe under his shoulders and lift him to his feet. His legs threaten to buckle beneath him, but Poe draws whatever wells of strength he has to keep himself upright. Poe winces when he sees one of them pull out a pair of shackles. The trooper grabs his hands to lock them on, when they pause for a moment, seeing Poe’s damaged hand. Poe hopes for a second they will mercifully forgo putting him in chains, but he would not be so lucky. Poe shifts his hands so his right wrist will bear the weight of the heavy cuffs, but the jostling still triggers intense pain.

Standing is one thing, but walking is another. As Poe is pushed forward, he nearly trips over his own feet. Hux ahead of them, the two troopers and Poe walk out of the room and back into one of the sprawling corridors of the Star Destroyer. In all the chaos from before, Poe completely forgot what he’d allegedly agreed to do for them.

The hallways blur together, Poe doesn’t even try to keep up with which direction they are going. His legs move autonomously as the pace quickens. Poe is thankful that Hux is walking ahead of them, he cannot stand the thought of the general even looking at him anymore. The feeling of dread grows with every step he takes knowing that whatever is going to happen to him will not be good; he can only hope to not do any peripheral damage.

Finally, they stop moving forward. Poe, who has been looking down to try to keep his legs going, looks up and sees Kylo Ren standing in front of another door with Hux to his side. Poe avoids Hux’s stare and looks at Ren’s mask, grateful for once to not see his expression.

“It is time to do what you promised us,” Ren says, breaking the silence.

“I haven’t promised you anything,” Poe seethes.

Ren doesn’t respond, rather he turns to the keypad at the door and proceeds to open it. He waves away the Stormtroopers holding Poe. Poe realizes how much he was leaning on them when their support gives way. He bobbles on his feet as his legs protest, but he remains upright.

Ren motions for Poe to enter the room. Poe considers for a moment, trying to leave, but he knows it is futile. He begrudgingly walks into the room, which is a small pod like room with a few screens and buttons. Poe recognizes it as a comms room, and then remembers what they want him to do. They want him to call the Resistance, but why?

Poe loiters in the doorway a bit too long and he feels Hux shove him in from behind. “That is all, General. Your job is done for now,” Ren says, impassively.

Hux sputters incomprehensively, “What? I—I am just as much a part of this as you are, Ren, you cannot exclude me—”

“You have been very helpful, General. You are dismissed for now.”

Poe can feel Hux’s anger radiate off his slender body, but is more than thankful to see the General leave. Not like being left alone in a room with Kylo Ren was a better alternative, but for right now, it is.

“Sit down,” Ren orders.

Poe obliges, knowing he needs to choose his battles more carefully, and also his feet were barely keeping him upright. As he sits in the chair in the dark room, illuminated only by the glow of a few screens, Poe tries to assess his best plan of attack. Maybe calling the Resistance would be in his favor, he could try to get a coded message out to them.

Deep in thought, Poe barely notices that Ren has removed the shackles from his wrists until his injured wrist harshly brings him back to reality. Poe grunts in pain, Ren notices.

“When did that happen?” he asks.

“Back at the archive building,” Poe groans, adjusting his hands to a more comfortable position.

Ren murmurs in acknowledgement, “Maybe if you do well here, we can fix that for you.”

Poe tries not to get excited at the thought, but he can’t help but entertain the idea of cooperating just to fix his injury. He shakes his head, hoping to dislodge that notion, “What am I even doing here?”

“You are going to put out a call to the Resistance in your encoded channel. You are not to give any indication that anything is amiss. Talk about your mission as if it is going well. Just keep them on the line.”

“So you can do what? Track them down?” Poe asks.

“Our intentions are irrelevant, all that matters is that you do not try to provoke them by telling them where you are. If you begin to deviate, we will terminate the transmission, and you do not want to know what happens to you next.”

“I’m not going to like what happens to me either way,” Poe retorts.

“I’m giving you an opportunity to heal yourself, do not take my generosity lightly.”

Poe sniffs in loudly. He looks forward to the holoscreen ahead of him, a deep shade of reflective black. Poe can see his reflection in it and gasps. His eyes are deeply sunken in and even in the dim light, he can see his split lip and the discoloration where he’s been hit, repeatedly.

“They’re going to notice this,” Poe remarks, barely audible, but Ren hears him.

“You’re good at talking your way out of things, I trust you’ll make up a good explanation. How about that bar fight? Use that as your excuse.”

“Wha—how did you know about th—” Poe stops himself, realizing he knows exactly how Ren knew about the fight.

In perfect timing, Ren worms his way into Poe’s mind. The excruciating pain takes over as Ren pores over every single one of Poe’s doubts and plans going into this. Ren knows now that he intends to send a secret message, and his grip on Poe’s mind tightens. _You are not to give any indication that anything is amiss. Talk about your mission as if it is going well._ These thoughts race through Poe’s mind in Ren’s voice but as they repeat over and over again, it slowly morphs into his own voice, as if he is thinking these thoughts independently.

Ren retreats, Poe is left dazed for a moment.

“Put in the coordinates for the transmission,” Ren orders.

Poe shakes himself out of his stupor. He turns to Ren and with every ounce of strength and defiance he has left, shakes his head, “No, I won’t.”

Ren sighs, a shrill, metallic sound through his vocalizer, “I didn’t want to have to do it this way.”

Ren is back in his mind, his presence like a hot knife barreling right for the information he wants. No more rifling around through various memories, he knows what he needs. Poe knows what he wants too, which loosens his grip on his own information vault. Ren senses the small opening in Poe’s mind and delves right for it, cutting through with severe precision. Poe’s mind recites the coordinates obediently, though his subconscious screams in protest in the background. Poe attempts to refocus into the present and he sees Ren inputting the numbers he’s just given him. Poe shouts, but he doesn’t know if it’s internally or externally.

Ren releases Poe from his grip and he slams back into reality, gasping for air.

“They’re going to answer soon, I hope you make the right decision this time,” Ren says, backing away as the room hums to life. A multitude of buttons flicker on and off and the screen in front of Poe illuminates his reflection even more clearly. Poe sees his profile from the chest up and can barely recognize himself, having been scraped and prodded and deprived of his own mind for so long. To see his own eyes blinking back at him disorients him.

“Poe!”

Poe squints, trying to discern where that voice was coming from. A woman’s voice.

“Poe?”

He blinks again.

“Poe, are you there?”

Suddenly, his vision and his mind are clear. His survival instincts kick into high gear. Poe knows that the next few moments will determine how the rest of his life plays out.

“Hey Jess!” he exclaims, putting on as false of a calm demeanor as he could.

“Poe, oh my stars we haven’t heard from you in so long!,” it was his friend, Jess Pava at the controls. Poe has never been happier to see a familiar face, “We were starting to get worri—what happened to your face?”

“Oh, ha, uh funny story,” Poe laughs, “Had a little tussle in a bar. You know how it goes.”

“Only you, Poe,” she says, giggling, “What’s up? Do you need me to transfer you to General Organa?”

“Hmm?” Poe hadn’t prepared for this. Could he keep up this façade for the General? Maybe she could just read his body language that he needs help. If anyone could, it would be her. “Uh, yeah. Actually that would be great. Wanted to give her an update.”

“Alright be right back, hang in there Poe. Don’t get into anymore fights, you.”

“I’ll try not to,” Poe says, forcing a small smile.

As soon as she disappears from the screen, Poe exhales, breathing heavily. He feels completely trapped and guilty because every moment they keep this connection he is making them vulnerable. Poe looks over his shoulder to see if Ren is still in the room with him, but the back corners of the room are too dark for him to notice.

“Commander Dameron?”

Leia’s voice was like a salve to Poe’s frayed nerves. That peace was short-lived as his mind races, trying to think of a way to get out his plea for help without Ren, somehow, noticing.

“General Organa,” he says, keeping his voice miraculously steady.

“What happened to your face?” she says, darkly, one eyebrow raised in concern.

Poe hesitates for a moment, “Oh, uh nothing. Just a little scuffle in a bar. Snap doesn’t give very good recommendations for stuff like that.” He tries to smile as naturally as possible.

Leia doesn’t respond right away, Poe can see the skepticism in her eyes and he is hopeful, “Be careful out there, Poe. We need you in one piece back here. How’s your mission going? If there’s nothing of note, just come home.”

Poe’s heart aches at the thought of home, it hurts more knowing he can’t go back right now, “Uh, things are going just fine. I think I may have stumbled on something earlier, but I’m going to stick around and see how it plays out.”

“Do you want us to send backup? If you think it’s something big, I don’t want you alone out there.”

“No,” Poe says a little too quickly, “I mean I don’t want to attract any attention. Too many unknown ships coming in might set off an alarm. I had to talk my way into even arriving on planet.”

“Alright, Poe. Well thank you for checking in. Was starting to worry about you, but I knew that you’d pull through.”

Leia’s pride in him would normally elicit a happy response from Poe, but right now it was like a dagger to the heart. He can’t keep this up anymore, he has to tell them, has to warn them, consequences be damned.

“General Organa, I—” Poe begins to say, his voice a mere quivering whisper.

“Wait, Poe, before you go, do you have a moment? I know you’re busy, but…” Leia asks, not noticing his quiet plea a moment earlier.

“Yes, what is it?” Poe’s heart is racing. He knows with every second that passes his window to call out for help closes, but he doesn’t yet know how to go about doing it.

“Alright, hold on,” she says, leaving the connection open but disappearing out of sight.

Poe can feel his stomach in his throat and his body hums with nervous energy. The weight of this situation hangs heavy around his neck and he looks down into his lap and sees his shaking hands. He breathes in, but the air feels like lead in his lungs. He is going to call out for help as soon as she returns. He has to. There is no other option. He will die at their hands in whatever gruesome manner so as not to sell out his friends.

“Poe?”

That is not General Organa’s voice. That deep, dulcet tone strikes a chord of familiarity deep within Poe.

He looks up.

“Finn?”

Finn’s smiling face transports him completely out of his body for a moment. For a moment, he is enveloped in safety. His heart skips a beat out of pure joy. Finn is ok. Finn is alive.

Finn is not safe.

Poe feels the smile on his face instantly vanish.

“Finn.”

Poe watches Finn’s expression drop, the disappointment evident. This was supposed to be a happy moment. Why wasn’t Poe happy?

“Finn, I’m not safe! The First Order has me, send help! Finn I need—”

Finn’s terrified face is the last thing Poe sees before the transmission fizzles to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is an extra long chapter for you guys! I just kept going and couldn't find a good place to split it so here, have A LOT. Also, it's in atonement for the fact that I will be away for the next week, aka away from my computer and won't be able to update! :( ahhhhhh I'm sorry, come yell at me for leaving you with that cliffhanger.
> 
> Chapter title from [My Least Favorite Life](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dFh71_ftxLE) by Lera Lynn


	15. he who strikes the blow forgets it, but he who bears the scar remembers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: torture, injury, mind probe, very brief suicidal thoughts

Poe stares into the dark screen and sees his own shocked face staring back, his eyes blank, but his mind alive and racing.

_Finn is alive. He’s ok. He’s going to be ok._

_I wasn’t there to see him wake up. I wasn’t there for him._

_He knows my situation now, they can send help. But they don’t know where I am. If I’m even alive when they…if they…_

Poe manages to fly through all these thoughts in the time it takes Kylo Ren to rip out his lightsaber and slash a hole through the wall right behind him. Poe is shaken from his stupor instantly as the loud thrumming noise from the lightsaber pulses through the room, the smell of burning metal acrid in the air. Poe has always thrown himself into situations where he risks his own life, but that risk has always felt far enough away for him to detach himself from it. Fear never prevails in Poe Dameron’s life, but in this very moment, the risk was too close. The red beam flashing in Poe’s peripheral vision becomes the sinking feeling that he might not leave this room alive. The primal urge of survival forces Poe to get up from his chair and make an irrational sprint for the door.

He doesn’t even make it out of the chair before Ren stops his forward movement, holding him stiffly in place, a vibrating bundle of energy with nowhere to go. Poe grunts as he tries to move with absolute desperation. Poe breath comes in fast, painful spurts. He sees Ren coming around to face him and closes his eyes just to block everything out and center himself for a moment.

“A simple request and you can’t even follow that,” Ren finally says, his vocalizer unable to filter out the anger in his voice, “Your pathetic Resistance is better off without you.”

Poe’s eyes fly open, a renewed furor in him begins to grow, “At least you won’t be able to find them. I know what you were trying to make me do. You were trying to track their signal.”

“Don’t presume to know what our plans are. They are too much even for your feeble mind,” Ren says darkly, “What do you even think you’ve accomplished here?”

“It doesn’t matter what I’ve accomplished. It—it doesn’t matter. I’m not that important, but if I can contribute to making sure that nobody has to live their life in fear anymore, _that’s_ what matters,” Poe responds, defiant.

Ren laughs, a hollow, metallic laugh. It echoes through the room ominously as his lightsaber hums in tandem, “How noble of you. How righteous you think you are. You treat people with too high of a regard. They only know how to be ruled, to submit.”

It is Poe’s turn to laugh, “And you are saying _I_ have a righteousness problem?”

Suddenly, Poe feels himself being lifted from the chair. Before he can even wonder what is going on, Ren slams the levitating Poe against the wall. The impact knocks all of the air out of Poe’s lungs. As he struggles to regain his breath, he sees Ren walking toward him, one arm outstretched to keep him pinned against the wall, the other wielding his lightsaber, swinging ominously at his side, the power contained in the blade radiating with vicious intensity.

Thoughts of the saber cutting clean through him threaten to send Poe into full hyperventilation. He closes his eyes and tries to turn his head away but the red light pierces through his eyelids anyway.

“You overestimate your necessity,” Ren snarls over the pulsing noise of his saber throbbing in Poe’s ears, “We can get rid of you at anytime.”

“Then why don’t you?” Poe yells out, a mixture of fear and frustration causing him to spit out whatever comes into his mind, unfiltered, “Getting rid of me won’t stop the Resistance. We won’t let you win. There are people there who actually care about me and other people and don’t see them as pawns in some stupid power struggle. When this is all over, you won’t be remembered. We will forget all about you.”

Poe knows he’s struck a nerve. Ren doesn’t say anything for a moment, a long, silent moment. He steps back, his barely contained rage threatening to boil over. Poe knows that Ren has a reputation for flying off the handle, but he’s never seen it before this. The pure fury and energy radiating from his body is truly terrifying as it makes him completely unpredictable. Poe chastises himself for succumbing to the temptation of testing how far Ren will actually go.

It all happens before Poe can take in his next breath.

Ren flourishes his saber; if it was to show off, Poe couldn’t tell. He swings it around behind him, making contact with the chair Poe had been sitting in earlier. Red sparks explode in bursts as the saber cuts through the metal with horrifying precision despite its user’s erratic movement. As that happens, Poe feels Ren’s hold on him slip through the cracks of the Force-user’s emotion. Without any support holding him up, Poe begins to slide to the floor. Ren turns his attention to Poe as he realizes he’s let him go for a moment and swings his saber toward Poe.

It barely hits him, it may have been just the slightest contact, but the smell of burning flesh fills Poe’s nostrils and his chest is firing pain signals left and right. His skin feels as if someone took a flamethrower to it, his heart pulsing in every torn blood vessel. Poe inhales sharply as he tries to reason out what is happening; his head swimming, slumped over his searing chest. The throbbing in his head is so loud he can’t hear anything else going on, his world is a microcosm now, his own reality, and that reality is nothing but pain. Every breath tears into his broken skin, he lifts his head up and against the wall, eye closed, biting his lip to steady himself and tasting blood.

Poe knows he needs to open his eyes to assess the damage, but if he could only keep them closed a little bit longer, he could just imagine this wasn’t real. But he knows better.

He opens his eyes to see Ren’s mask mere inches from his face. Poe can’t even hide the terror anymore, he’s not trying to be strong right now, there’s nothing left. Ren holds his saber very close to Poe’s throat, the blade emanating heat that no flame could even compare to. Poe whimpers as the small blade on the hilt comes dangerously close to his skin, he tries to turn away but he feels the pressure of Ren’s influence on his body again and he cannot move.

“You will never question my power again,” Ren rumbles, his voice low and authoritative, “this is nothing, _nothing_ , compared to what I can do to you, what I have done. In fact…”

Ren enters Poe’s mind, in his weakened state, he cannot fight back. The compression in Poe’s skull reaches its maximum and it feels as if his brain could leak out of his skull, every sensation amplified.

And then everything lurches. Poe is no longer in his own mind, no longer in his own thoughts. It’s as if Ren inserted a chip into his brain to play his memories instead. Poe can see through Ren’s eyes, but there is no mask obstructing him. Has he removed it? The scene is dark, it’s cold; Poe can almost feel the snow falling gently on his skin. Where are they?

The scene jumps forward, Poe can feel Ren’s rage coursing through his body as if it is his own, the feeling overwhelming. How could one body hold all of this in? The snow is illuminated by his red saber, but there is a blue glow coming from across the field. Red and blue streaks of light fill his vision, blurry. Attack and defend, attack and defend, a surge of confidence as red begins to overpower the blue, backing up his attacker against a tree. The smell of burning leather and skin and a blood curdling scream as everything suddenly comes into sharp relief.

It’s Finn.

The snow continues falling on Starkiller Base as Kylo Ren flourishes his lightsaber and slashes Finn from tailbone to neck with one dominant strike. The impact knocks him out, his body limp and lifeless in the snow.

Poe gasps for breath as Ren yanks himself out of Poe’s mind, content with the damage done. “I could have killed him, you know?” Ren murmurs into Poe’s ear. Poe closes his eyes, tears running hot down his flushed cheeks, “And you could have been there to see him heal, hold his hand as he tries to walk again. Your sentimentality is your downfall. I can see it, I can feel it.”

Poe can’t even find words to speak, his tongue heavy with emotion.

“I will see to it that you never get to see him again.”

With that, Ren stands up, extinguishes his saber and turns on his heel, his cloak fluttering as he walks out the door.

Poe takes a shuddering inhale and realizes that he is sobbing, his chest heaving despite the searing pain. He blinks away his tears, finally seeing the damage done, his borrowed jumpsuit ripped open across the length of his chest, the fabric frayed and burnt. He can see the blood stains as they drip further and further down. He reaches his one good hand, trembling, to the hole in the fabric and pries it open. He nearly faints upon seeing it, the gash from his lower right torso up to his left collarbone. The wound is superficial in that it didn’t cut deep enough to do internal damage, but what is left is horrific enough. The laceration itself runs a deep crimson as the fresh blood leaks out over bright red burn marks where the flames took their devastating blow.

Poe swallows, his dry throat protesting, as he tries to steady himself from collapsing outright, but his head is overcome with the agony in every inch of his body and his mind. He can’t stop replaying the memory Ren fed into him of Finn’s face, contorted in pain. Juxtaposed with his happy expression only minutes earlier, filled with life and hope, to only be twisted back into a painful reality over and over again.

Poe cries out to nobody, his voice hollow in the empty room. _I could just bleed out here and this would be over, it could all be over. Finn could find happiness, he would survive._

His train of thought is broken by the airlock door opening, two stormtroopers entering. Poe barely registers them lifting him up roughly under his arms. He has no energy to assist them in any way. Every movement of his body brings him pain, but he can no longer associate any specific locations of where it is coming from. His heads hangs unsupported between his shoulders. He feels a kick at his legs and a muttering from one of them, probably unhappy that he wasn’t even trying to stand up.

They drag him out of the room, Poe’s knees and feet hitting every change in the floor. Poe uses some of what is left of his energy to look up at one of the stormtroopers, taking in the curvature of their armor, their helmet. In his delirium, he imagines Finn under there, as if he is dragging him away to safety. A brief, blissful detachment. That thrill of being two men on the run, making another daring escape. They’d be able to sit back and laugh about it together, when it was all just a distant memory to reminisce about.

Poe, lost in his thought, doesn’t realize they’ve stopped moving, and he’s been shoved into another cold cell. His body lies limp against the hard floor, the blood from his wound forming a small pool, reflective in the low red light. But in Poe’s mind, he isn’t there, he’s safe in room with his friends, laughing. Finn’s face, a happy one. The lowlight illuminating the glow of his dark skin.

“I’ll come home to you,” Poe finds himself saying out loud, his voice barely above a whisper, “I’ll see you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok here you go, sorry that took so long! Life just likes to get in the way of things somehow. Thanks for holding on through the cliffhanger. Man I just want to give our poor guy a hug, I might need to write some fluff just as a palate cleanser (but not for this one yet, I can't make it that easy...)
> 
> Just want to say again to everyone who keeps tuning in, you seriously keep me so motivated to keep writing and I am eternally, eternally thankful for that. :)
> 
> Chapter title from [Crucified Again](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YZaqmwvw9Z4) by Arcade Fire


	16. no way of knowing what any man will do, an ocean of violence between me and you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: ongoing major injuries, threat of non-con

_Everything is quiet. Peaceful. Tranquil._

_Poe’s eyelids flutter open, a gentle awakening._

_He smiles._

_A savory smell wafts in from the other room, beckoning Poe out of bed. He kicks off the blanket, the indent from where his body lay slowly rising. He makes toward the door, realizing he is completely undressed. He chuckles to himself quietly as he fumbles for his pants, wondering what would happen if he just walked into the kitchen naked._

_Once dressed he heads into the other room, finding the source of the sweet smells coming from the kitchen._

_“What are you making me?” Poe asks._

_That elicits a response. Finn turns around, smirking, “Who said I was cooking for you?”_

_“I just guessed after last night, you’d want to thank me,” Poe says, a cheeky grin plastered across his face._

_“Modesty is not your strong suit, Dameron,” Finn replies, turning back to his food._

_Poe, undeterred, walks up from behind Finn, and wraps his arms around his waist, nuzzling his face into Finn’s warm neck, “Are you saying that it wasn’t good?” he murmurs, a faux-disappointment in his voice._

_Finn stops what he was doing and reaches around to give Poe a kiss on the cheek, “It was amazing. Absolutely amazing, it was…” Finn trails off, as he often does when he’s at a loss for words, “…fantastic, Poe.”_

_Poe pulls at Finn’s hips, twisting him to face him. They lock eyes, a wordless gaze that speaks volumes. Finn reaches his hand to Poe’s cheek, already flushed, reddens at the touch. Finn leans down and brushes Poe’s lips with his own. A light touch designed to leave him wanting more, which is exactly what it did. Poe tugs Finn’s hips against his own and kisses him deeply. He takes in every aspect of this moment, from Finn’s breath hot against his mouth to the tingle running down his spine, electric._

_Poe could live right here forever._

_Finn moves his lips up Poe’s face, kissing his cheek again, then kissing his ear, he whispers “You can still cook for yourself.”_

_Poe steps back, playfully shoving Finn, who is now laughing deeply._

_“I’m just kidding Poe, I made you breakfast too.”_

_Poe laughs too, a hearty belly laugh. Poe can’t remember the last time he’s laughed this hard. A feeling of pure happiness, untainted by outside circumstances._

_Then Finn stops laughing._

_So does Poe._

_Finn’s brow furrows, the look of horror and worry crawling through his expression. Poe has seen this look before, and it terrifies him._

_“Finn? What is it?”_

_No answer._

_“What is it?” Poe asks, more urgently._

_Finn raises a shaking finger to Poe’s chest, his eyes still wide, unblinking._

_Poe looks down to see blood pouring down his bare chest; he swoons but he feels no pain._

_“Finn?” Poe mutters, weakly, his legs wobbling beneath him. Finn runs forward to catch him as he falls._

_“Stay strong Poe.”_

_The world begins to spin._

_“Don’t let them break you.”_

_Poe tries to speak, but the words are caught in his throat as a feeling of panic begins to settle in._

_“I’m waiting for you.”_

 Everything hurts. Pain. Suffering.

Poe jerks awake, a rough transition to consciousness.

He cries out.

The lights in this room are unbearably bright, searing his watery eyes with unrelenting intensity. He closes his eyes to shut it out, but it only seems to seep through his eyelids ven more. His head pounding, he wonders if they’re trying to deprive him of sleep again. The thought of it causes Poe’s stomach to knot as sleep is his only reprieve. In sleep he can dream, he can dream of happiness, of Finn and simple times.

He goes to rub his eyes, but realizes his arms are restrained. The bleariness from waking up coming into sharp focus in an instant. He isn’t in his cell anymore, is he in a medbay? He lifts his head up as far as it can go, grunting in pain as his chest muscles contract against his wound. He looks down at his chest to see it’s wrapped in bandages, white and stained crimson as the blood continues leaking from it. He pulls slightly against the restraints holding him to the bed, noticing that his broken wrist is somewhat immobilized.

Why are they healing him?

_It has to be so they can keep me alive to just keep hurting me. They must have gone a little too far this time._

Poe grimaces as the pains all over his body make themselves known. Despite the bandages, he is still in immense pain. He can barely move his body in spite of the restraints, he feels entirely exhausted and weak. The recognition of the fact that if the door flew open and he was freed, he wouldn’t even make it halfway down the hall, wrecks Poe. The tears run bitterly down his cheek and onto the sterile, white sheets.

He closes his eyes and tries to return to his dream. Back into Finn’s arms, back into a place where he was loved and not reviled.

But that would have to remain in dreams. A commotion from outside the door startles Poe back to reality. He gasps, the breath expanding his lungs and triggering another pain spasm in his chest. Poe whimpers as he waits for it to end, the agony consuming his entire being.

“That’s a nasty little cut you have, isn’t it?” comes a voice from the door. Poe doesn’t even have to look to see who it is, his heart sinking.

“Fuck off,” Poe mutters, under his breath.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Hux demands.

“Fuck. Off.” Poe says, gritting his teeth against the pain, barely subsiding.

“You should be thanking me, Dameron. It was me who suggested that we pick your bleeding, pathetic mess off the floor and get you fixed up. Well, just fixed up _enough.”_

Poe feels his lips curling into a snarl. He can’t even find the energy or the words he wants to us to come up with a witty retort. Inside, he is thankful, but he’ll never admit it.

“It’s unfortunate that Ren can’t control his temper, it prevents him from becoming a truly great leader,” Hux muses as he walks closer to Poe’s bed, “He’s too impatient. He can’t play the long game, but that is the only way to win. The only way to…” Hux reaches out, his cold fingers tracing Poe’s bruised cheek, “…get exactly what you want.”

Poe recoils, clenching his legs together instinctively. He’s been cooped up here with the First Order for so long now, but this is the first time he’s felt truly cornered with no escape. Poe knows what Hux wants, and he cannot let him take it.

“Are you afraid of me?” Hux purrs menacingly.

Poe swallows a shiver, letting out a small gasp of air, “You’ll never get what you want.”

Hux grabs Poe’s chin roughly, “Is that right? I was going to wait until our plan for you is finished, but you might just make me change my mind.”

Panic invades every single one of Poe’s senses as he struggles to focus, so he figures his best course of action is to just keep talking. Use his big mouth to either save him or get him into even more trouble, though the two are not mutually exclusive.

“What plan?” Poe says, unsuccessfully hiding the terror in his voice.

“You think you may have changed the rules back there when you told your little friends you were in trouble, but you’ve done nothing. We have everything planned out and you’ll fall into line no matter what.”

“You didn’t answer my question, what plan?” Poe asks again, avoiding Hux’s eye contact.

Hux scoffs, “As if we’d tell you what our plans are. What I can tell you, is that your failure, your Resistance’s failure is guaranteed. And you will be a part in that. Can you imagine? Taking down your own cause. That’s why I won’t let Ren kill you,” Hux puts his hand directly on Poe’s wound and presses down, causing Poe to scream out, “Because living with that is a fate worse than death.”

Hux removes his hand from Poe’s chest and steps back. Poe attempts to catch his breath again, but with every inhale and exhale, his skin burns anew. He can feel his bandages growing wetter with fresh blood, the metallic smell heavy in the air.

Feeling pleased with himself, Hux turns on his heel and walks out the door with an air of pride and gloating. As soon as the door closes, Poe chokes out a large sob of relief. The gash in his skin felt like a red hot pulse but he had somehow managed to avoid anything worse. At least for now. Hux’s pontificating pride was his flaw and as long as Poe could make him feel like he is winning, he could exploit that weakness.

As long as Poe could make himself feel like he is winning, if only for a moment, he could keep surviving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all sorry about the huge delay inbetween chapters. Just needed some time to reset things and not let life get in the way. Everything is all good.
> 
> Anyway, even if it was just a dream sequence, I had to give Poe something nice and happy. But still have the darkness because, of course. Thanks for hanging in with that wait, I should be a bit more frequent again here. :)
> 
> Chapter title from [Ocean of Noise](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CyN9_5LUSZY) by Arcade Fire.


	17. no place to hide, you were fighting as a soldier on their side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: ongoing injury, psychological torture

It feels as if weeks have elapsed, blurry motions and sounds pass by like passing starfighters in the night. It’s probably only been a few minutes, and he’s probably been drugged but he’s thankful for the reprieve.

Moments with Finn, like his dream before, materialize and disappear over and over again. It’s a beautiful escape and Poe is no longer fighting his desire to just give in and to let go because he knows this isn’t real, and will most likely never be. It’s almost as if the acceptance of that has made coping with his situation easier.

Floating in and out of consciousness, Poe hangs suspended in his own world for as long as he can.

It was never meant to last.

Poe awakes with a start.

Kylo Ren and General Hux stand at the end of his bed, unflinchingly still. Poe’s heavy breathing ringing loudly in his own ears. Poe observes two things simultaneously: he feels incredibly rested and his pain has somewhat subsided; and that he couldn’t be more thankful that the two of them were in here together. Something about the other seems to temper the intensity of them both, as if they have to hold back in front of each other which means, advantage: Poe.

Poe decides to test how good he really is feeling by attempting to sit up. He shifts his body weight under his shoulders and gingerly pushes himself up into a seated position. His damaged nerves cry out, he grimaces, but it is no longer unbearable. He realizes he is no longer restrained as well, unable to hide the surprise on his face.

“We figured that you would no longer attempt anything rash,” Ren’s voice fills the air, “but if you decide to become even the slightest threat, your situation will change.”

Poe doesn’t respond, exhaling deeply through his nose.

“Ren wants to make it seem as if we’ve _tamed_ you, but I don’t believe that,” Hux proclaims, “at least not yet.”

“Not ever,” Poe snarls, quietly.

“Careful,” Ren shoots back.

A silence descends into the room, a heavy cloak over the three men as they all wish to verbally volley for power. A mountain of words unsaid looms like a shadow in the near horizon, nobody willing to be the first to ascend. Poe wants to yell out, cry out; he can’t tell if he’s more angry than desperately hopeless, but he knows he needs to be cautious with how he handles himself. The short reprieve of his torture made Poe more aware of how dire his situation really is and the impact he can single-handedly have if he makes the wrong move.

“Well,” Ren finally says, breaking the quiet, “we just wanted to see how you’d progressed for the next part of our plan.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what this so-called plan is? You keep bringing it up like you actually know what you are doing.” Poe spits, knowing he was going too far but he couldn’t control the words fumbling out.

Hux scoffs, “As if we would actually tell you.” He turns to Ren, “I think he might be ready now that he’s got that fruitless defiance back. Those first few nights in here, oh, how I wish you could have heard him. A quivering, begging _mess._ ” Hux faces Poe, his eyes burning with sick pleasure.

Poe’s stomach sinks; was he really in that bad of a shape that he was _begging_ the First Order to help him? He physically shakes as a shiver crawls up his spine at the thought and the dread that it was probably true. Poe slipped out of consciousness shortly after Ren attacked him and he could have said anything to make the pain stop.

“Enough, General,” Ren commands, “we have matters to attend to if we are going to make this work.”

Hux’s smile falls ever so slightly at the reprimand from Ren, but his eyes don’t waiver from staring at Poe. “You’re going to love what we have in store for you,” Hux seethes, his voice dripping with menace.

And that is what scares Poe.

What do they have in store for him? _Where are they taking me? Why have they intentionally healed me if not to really use me as some sort of pawn? Have they caught someone else? Finn. Finn. I put Finn in danger when I told him what was going on. I showed my hand. I showed my weakness. They want to go after him anyway but I’ve put a target on his back. What if I really do bring down the Resistance?_

Poe’s panicked thoughts prevent him from noticing Ren and Hux leave. He is alone again and for the first time he really wishes he wasn’t. He needs someone, something to distract him as his mind spins off the rails, threatening to take him down a dark path of paranoia and despair. Poe tries to focus on his breathing, counting as he inhales and exhales, but with every movement of his chest, his broken skin reminds him that he won’t find peace here. He looks down at his hands and sees they are trembling. He bites his lip, looks up at the ceiling as a huge exhale shudders through his body and he weeps silently.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Hours pass.

Someone comes in to give Poe a scant meal, but he refuses to touch it. He knows that they are up to something and he needs to keep his wits about him, even if his empty stomach cries out in protest.

Despite his best attempts to stay conscious, Poe falls asleep, having lost all sense of night and day. He can’t remember the last time he’s been outside to see a sun or a moon or smell the air of a forest or a desert or a city. He sees them in dreams, but his reality is such a harsh one that the delineation between the two is painfully obvious.

_The sky is a beautiful shade of orange painted with streaks of purple. The air is thick and heavy with heat, but as the sun sets, the reprieve sets in. A breeze from the west ruffles Poe’s hair as he stares ahead._

_He makes to stand up. He has somewhere to be, but he can’t remember where. But that’s alright. He keeps sitting, stretching his legs out in front of him._

_“Get up,” he hears a voice in the distance say._

_No, this moment is too precious. The sky, it’s begging to be looked at, and Poe must oblige._

_“Get up,” the voice commands again, closer this time, and agitated._

_Poe grunts his displeasure. Something always manages to get in the way of his blissful moments, he looks up to the sky and the watercolor palette is suddenly replaced with an angry red smoke covering all that he can see…_

“Get up!”

Poe jerks awake to see three Stormtroopers standing in the doorway of his room. He slowly begins to peel himself up out of bed. Despite his rest, his body was still in immense pain which made his movements extremely slow. He grimaces as his chest muscles contract against his bandages, his open wound barely healed.

“Get him up,” Poe hears one of the troopers say, a female voice, and is immediately swarmed by the other two who grab him by his arms and yank him out of bed. Poe’s feet hit the floor, but with no time to gain his composure, they slip underneath him and his knees hit the ground hard. Poe cries out, but he is dragged to the end of the bed and let go. He collapses into himself, his mind still bleary with sleep, attempting to get his bearings.

“Put these on,” the woman orders, dropping a nondescript pair of clothes in Poe’s lap. He looks up at her, meeting his eyes with her helmet and decides that this is not the battle he needs to fight. He needs to save his energy as the feeling of dread creeps ever closer that the “plan” was coming to fruition.

Poe dresses himself, every small movement hurts, but he tries to do it as quickly as he can. As soon as he has the brown tunic, pants and boots on, he feels himself being lifted up again by the two troopers who dragged him out of bed. They hold his upper arms in a vice grip, pushing his chest out as they push him forward and out of his room.

Poe takes in his unfamiliar surroundings; this looks nothing like the ship he was on earlier. Granted, he never remembered even coming down here in the first place. Whenever Poe starts to linger in thought or slow down, he feels a sharp prod in his side as he is escorted wherever he is going. He hasn’t seen another Stormtrooper or officer or anyone for that matter since they left his room. That is odd. The hallways were always bustling everytime he’d managed to get pulled down them.

“Where are you taking me?” Poe asks, choosing to push his limits slightly only to assuage the growing panic in his gut.

No answer.

“Where are you taking me?” he asks again, more urgently, but is met with another prod to the torso.

Finally they stop moving, halting in front of a small black door at the edge of a long hallway that ended in two large doors. That was an exit of some sort. To where, Poe didn’t know, but his heart leapt at the thought of an escape. Everything had been so circular and this was an exit of some kind, he at least had some bearing.

The female trooper presses a few keys on her holopad and the door opens to utter blackness.

“Put him in there,” she orders to the two troopers holding Poe upright. He feels a sudden shove as they push him forcefully through the door as he instinctively fights against it. They release his arms, and with no balance, Poe falls forward onto his knees and curls up to soften the blow as he falls onto his right side. As soon as he falls, he pushes himself up and moves to the door but he’s too slow. The door slams shut in his face.

“No!” Poe calls out. The elation he felt earlier finding an exit is replaced with utter despair as he finds himself trapped again. The darkness envelopes him as he squints and struggles to see anything in this room. The terror gripping his heart threatens to overtake him, but Poe tries to remain calm. He closes his eyes, for at least then he can control the darkness.

“It’s all consuming isn’t it?”

Poe opens his eyes, but still sees nothing, yet he knows who is speaking to him.

“What are you talking about?” he cries out, the desperation clear in his voice.

“The darkness,” Kylo Ren says, his voice unusually quiet, “It’s the only place I feel comfortable.”

Poe doesn’t know what to say. He’s never had a conversation with Ren that wasn’t about being threatened or questioned or tortured. This odd musing wasn’t what Poe expected and that made him leery.

“I’m not here to talk about philosophy, I know it. What do you want from me?” Poe yells.

“Had it ever occurred to you that maybe you and I have more in common than you think?”

“No. Not really,” Poe says, deadpan.

“Hmm,” Ren murmurs, his voice distorted through his mask gave it a sort of musical quality, “I’d have thought you’d be in less of a rush to destroy everything you know and love.”

Well, at least the threats were back. Back to normal.

“I don’t even know how long I’ve been here,” Poe says, quivering, “I just want to know what’s going on and what I’m worth to you, otherwise I’d be long gone. I need to know what else I need to _not_ do for you because you’re not going to break me…you’re not going to….”

“I think we already have.”

Poe inhales sharply, his anger coursing through his veins, as the room is suddenly illuminated. Ren stands at the back of the room next to a holodisplay which has now lit up the room. The blue-green light floods Poe’s eyes, he turns away as he adjusts to his new surroundings.

“Wait. I’m not calling them again. You’re not making me do that again,” Poe says, crawling backwards and hitting a wall, startling himself.

Ren stands silently in front of the display, waving his hand in front of it, an image begins to materialize.

It’s Starkiller Base.

Poe is confused, but his courage overrides his common sense and he blurts, “What are you showing me this for? I blew that up, remember. You failed.”

Ren, again, is silent, impassive. He waves his hand again and the image begins to move, a booming voice filling the room.

_“The Massacre at Starkiller Base.”_

_The image of the planet spins around and zooms in to a bustling scene of officers at their stations, Stormtroopers walking in formation. People laughing, talking. A gentle strain of music plays lightly in the background._

_“It began like any other day on duty, keeping the peace of the galaxy…”_

_Then the music shifts, a harsh key change. The scene cuts to the officers hurriedly ordering commands, Stormtroopers rushing out the door, TIE fighter pilots suiting up and getting into their ships._

_“…when The Resistance attacked, unprovoked and with swift violence.”_

_Footage of X-wings fighting TIE fighters, explosions, a Stormtrooper laying in a pool of their own blood._

_“Thousands of First Order officers and soldiers valiantly fought for their lives that day. And yours. They fought to protect the peaceful order that they strived to provide you every day. They were mercilessly slaughtered at the hands of the Resistance.”_

_Faces flash across the screen for a brief moment: Jess, Leia, Snap, Poe…Finn. Their faces intercut with images of the destruction of the battle while blaring alarms sound._

_“They may have won a battle, but we will win the war.”_

_The First Order insignia on a flag waves as a triumphant music cue swells._

Poe can hardly breathe, disbelief and anger flood every one of his senses, “Un…unprovoked?” he spews, turning to face Ren, “Unprovoked?! You were going to _obliterate_ us! You…you were going to kill _us_! What the _hell_ is this?”

“It’s our new propaganda film,” Ren says, showing infuriatingly little emotion, which only enrages Poe more.

“It’s a _lie_ is what that is!” Poe screams, his voice hoarse from shouting, “That’s a lie, you can’t do that…you can’t…”

“We can, in fact. It is war. History is made by those who shape it into what they want it to be. Show it to enough people and it becomes true.”

“Bullshit,” Poe spits, fuming.

“I should be thanking you. Those lovely shots of your friends were from our little conversation with them, remember?”

Poe’s heart sinks. So _this_ is why they had him call them. To make them an enemy, to give that enemy a face, to bring about their ruin. Ren was right. His reach is bigger and farther than theirs, he could share this version of events with the whole galaxy. Poe has to make sure that doesn’t happen.

“And you only have yourself to blame, after all, you ‘blew it up’ as you so helpfully just confessed to me,” Ren gloats.

Poe’s eyes widen. He _had_ said that. _Shit._

“I had no choice,” Poe sputters, “I had no choice.”

“’No choice’ to murder thousands of innocent people to advance your cause?”

“Our cause? Our cause of not dying by your fucking superweapon?” Poe yells, out of breath. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to make sense of the world spinning rapidly out of his control.

“All those innocent people…” Ren begins, but Poe interrupts him.

“They weren’t _innocent._ Besides who the fuck are _you_ to lecture me about morality? How many people have you killed? Huh? How many?” Poe realizes he’s gotten to his feet, he wobbles and reaches his hand to steady himself against the wall. His heart feels as if it is beating out of his chest, his ears ringing, his hands curled into fists at his side.

“Like you said,” Poe says darkly, “It’s war. Shit happens. _You_ were the ones that provoked us! We were only defending ourselves.”

Ren makes a small clicking noise under his mask. “Do you know where we are?” Ren asks, moving away from his position near the display, advancing towards Poe.

“Wh—what?” Poe sputters.

“We aren’t on my ship anymore. We landed after you’d fallen unconscious, which to be honest, was quite convenient for us. We are at one of our covert outposts, a training facility for our Stormtroopers and officers. Many of the ones you killed trained here. Your little traitor trained here.”

Poe shutters at the thought of Finn in brutal Stormtrooper training, but that is fleeting as Poe slowly realizes where Ren might be going with this.

“We erase any empathy they might have in their training, but their loyalty is unequivocal. We discourage emotion, but in an event like this, we do allow for some anger and grief. It motivates them.”

Poe bites his lower lip, which he can’t control from quivering, as he stares wordlessly at Ren.

“We just showed them that film,” Ren announces, unable to contain the perverse joy in his voice, “Along with our conversation just now.”

_Shit._

Poe feels like someone pulled all the air out of his lungs, dizzy.

“No,” Poe whispers, looking down at his feet, his whole body wracked with tremors as an intense fear grips his entire being, “please, no.”

“I think they’d like to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another pretty hefty chapter, but I promise this one doesn't come with the long wait of the last one. Finally getting back into the writing groove, especially with all these new plot threads I have dangling in front of me.
> 
> I know I say it a lot, but really thank you all for reading and your lovely comments and support. :)
> 
> Chapter title from [Intervention](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZO7ZWfvCjBE) by Arcade Fire


	18. and now you've seen my world in flames, my shadow songs, my deep regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: torture, ongoing major injury, mind probe, threat of death, electrocution

The edges of Poe’s vision go dark; the room feels as if it is spinning around like a ship plummeting to the surface with the controls going dark.

Maybe if he closes his eyes, the impact won’t ever come, turn on autopilot and drift away.

Poe barely registers the new entrants into the room, being lifted to his feet, his arms wrenched behind him. Ren is a black blur floating in the middle of his field of sight, his voice a muddy rumble in the back of his head. All sound is muffled, as if he was underwater. Poe doesn’t fight back as the door of the room opens and he’s dragged back out into the hallway. He vaguely remembers a feeling of elation at seeing the end of the hallway, but why? Poe’s mind is as thick as the muddy swamps of Dagobah, fully incapable of processing what is happening, almost as a defense mechanism.

And then he snaps out of it, as his head is once again filled with the searing pain of Ren’s probe. Except he isn’t reaching for anything, he’s just making his presence known.

“I’m disappointed you’re not fighting back,” comes Ren’s voice from behind, “Wake up. You’re here to put on a show.”

With a sharp inhale, Poe plants his feet. “No, I’m not.”

The Stormtroopers holding his arms keep moving, reacting slightly too slowly to the previously docile Poe’s sudden action. Poe is pulled forward due to momentum, but he can’t catch himself and falls to his knees, hard. He yelps out as the agitated troopers continue to pull him to the end of the hallway and the exit that had once held the promise of freedom, which now was leading him somewhere he didn’t want to go at all.

Poe knows one thing: whatever is waiting for him on the other side could be his ultimate demise.

If what Ren said is true, then the propaganda film and his own damn words had condemned him in the eyes of the various First Order officers and troopers watching. It was one thing to have the top brass know who you are, but ultimately your anonymity among the general population was your protection. You at least had a little bit of leverage in your favor, you could leave, you could run, you could hide, but not anymore. Who knows how many others have seen or will see it.

The troopers flanking Poe attempt to drag him forward, but he strains against them with every ounce of strength he has left. The one to his left jerks forward unexpectedly, throwing Poe off, his right foot slipping out from under him and they push him onward, overpowering his attempts to regain composure.

Poe grunts, pulling backwards fruitlessly, his arms straining against the cuffs locking them behind his back. The pressure building against his barely healed wrist, tears spring out of Poe’s eyes instinctively, but he keeps resisting, out of sheer desperation at this point. “Y—you can’t….you can’t do this,” he sputters, words just falling out of his mouth.

“I can’t?” Ren asks, feigning ignorance.

Poe heaves, his lungs and chest heavy, exerting all his energy in trying to squirm away. He realizes he doesn’t really have an argument as to why Ren can’t do this. He can. And he is. He’s destroying the one thing Poe could still hold on to: his reputation.

“Thought so,” Ren says impassively, as he turns and opens the door.

“No!” Poe yells impulsively, but it’s inconsequential. Light floods the dim hallway, Poe squints as his eyes, still wet, adjust to the new surroundings. Taking advantage of his momentary disorientation, the Stormtroopers aggressively thrust him over the threshold of the exit.

Poe blinks and his knees nearly buckle underneath him.

Stretching out in front of him are rows and rows of Stormtroopers and First Order officers neatly stacked in rows and squares. He can’t even begin to guess how many of them there are, and they are all staring directly at him.

The noise is deafening, an antagonistic roar from the crowd sprawling out in front of him. They have entered an outdoor staging ground of some sort. The sun burns hot on Poe’s skin that hasn’t seen daylight in what seems like weeks. Red and black First Order banners flap in the wind on all corners as Poe is escorted toward the front of the elevated platform they stand on. Poe is too absorbed in taking in his new surroundings that he doesn’t even see General Hux to his left, pacing gleefully back and forth.

“And here he is! I told you we had a surprise for you all!” comes Hux’s artificially amplified voice echoing throughout the grounds.

Poe gasps and jerks his head upon hearing Hux’s voice and stumbles backwards a little in an attempt to distance himself. But there is nowhere to go. A step in any direction leads Poe right into the waiting arms of anyone in this crowd who would tear him to pieces if given the chance. Poe is utterly trapped and he can feel it. His heartbeat pounds in his ears, his breathing so erratic, capable of blacking out at any moment. _This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening._

“ _This_ is the man who fired the final shot to destroy our planet and the thousands of men and women on it,” Hux calls out, his face contorted with rage that Poe had never seen, “ _He_ is the one that murdered your comrades, your brothers and sisters. And I think he needs to answer for his crimes don’t you?”

The crowd roars in approval, Poe quivers as Hux approaches him, still being held upright near the lip of the platform.

“On your knees,” Hux demands, turning to face Poe, his eyes burning as fiery red as his hair.

Poe stands still, dangerously defiant, “No.”

Poe feels his upper lip curling into a snarl as he breathes heavily, not daring to break eye contact with Hux. There was no way he was going to follow any orders, even if it meant “putting on a show” as Ren had so adeptly put it moments before. Poe hopes his misplaced bravery could mask the quivering fear threatening to overtake him.

“I _said,_ on your knees, you sack of Bantha shit,” Hux yells, his face beet red.

“Oh so we’re getting to name-calling now I se—” Poe begins to retort, but before he can finish, the Stormtroopers holding him kick his legs out from under him and he falls to his knees. Poe struggles as his locked arms are wrenched upward, still firmly in their grasp, his head hanging down, dizzy.

Poe feels his head being pulled up by his hair, and he comes face to face with a furious Hux, “You’d do best to follow my orders if you want this to end with you remaining alive,” he seethes into Poe’s ear, his voice only audible to him.

Poe tries to look away from Hux, but everywhere his eyes wander, he only sees more Huxes staring back at him, the hatred in their eyes betraying their otherwise stoic façades. He sees endless white blurs of Stormtroopers stretching out in front of him and he knows that under their helmets are those hateful eyes too.

The worst part is Poe knows why. He knows that it would be the same if the roles were reversed, the anger, the spite, the hate. He understands.

Poe is shaken from his contemplation by a hard strike to the back of his head. He grunts as he refocuses his eyes and tunes his ears back into reality.

“Were you even paying attention to me?” comes Hux’s voice, the source of the hit.

“What?” Poe blurts, blearily. How long had he spaced out for?

“I said,” Hux says, pausing, as Poe turns his head to face him, “I should just kill you now.” Hux presses the muzzle of his blaster directly on Poe’s forehead. Poe flinches at the touch of cold metal to his skin, but he does not break eye contact with Hux. _He can’t. He won’t. He needs me alive yet. Right?_

Hux stares into Poe’s eyes, Poe stares back, almost taunting him to just do it already, just get it over with why don’t…

_Click._

Hux depresses the trigger, and for a split second Poe thinks he’s actually done it. But he hasn’t. Poe hears Hux laughing, the sound echoing, and he realizes that he’s clenched his eyes completely shut. Poe heaves, still being held to a kneeling position by the troopers on his side, otherwise he may have collapsed completely.

“You didn’t think we’d let you get off _that_ easily would you?” Hux shouts gleefully.

Hux motions to the troopers beside Poe, who lift Poe up and begin dragging him backwards. Poe looks over his shoulder, Ren still standing back near the door, but off to his right are two tall posts, which seem to be their destination. He tries to stifle the fear that’s been churning and bubbling near the surface, but it’s reaching a boiling point.

As soon as the reach the posts, the troopers stop; the one holding his left arm lets go and walks behind Poe, fiddling with his handcuffs. They separate at the middle, but the cuffs remain around Poe’s wrists. He instantly considers striking the trooper with his free hand, but remembers that his left wrist is still broken and besides that, where would he go? In the time Poe considered his escape, the other trooper grabbed his dangling arm, lifting it above his head and pulls him toward the two posts. Suddenly it’s clear to Poe that they are stringing him up here, he tries to plant his feet down to prevent any further movement but his feet can’t grip the floor. He grunts as his ineffectual struggling does nothing to prevent his current fate.

“Wait!” he hears Hux’s booming voice. The two troopers stop to look at Hux, as does Poe, who is striding over to their position, an evil glint in his eye, “Remove his shirt first.”

Poe exhales heavily, desperately wanting to avoid feeling any more exposed than he already does. The troopers roughly yank Poe’s borrowed tunic over his head, each movement jostling his sensitive wounds that have barely healed, the pain coming in waves. Poe tries to push away the thought that the pain is really just beginning. The sun beats down onto Poe’s shoulders, the breeze gentle against his skin.

Hux clicks his tongue, “What is this? No, no, no we can’t have that.”

“What?” Poe asks, unable to mask the panic in his voice.

“This,” Hux says, reaching for the white, but red soaked, bandage covering Poe’s lightsaber wound.

Poe realizes what is happening slightly too late, “Wait, no!” he cries out.

The pain is immeasurable. The cloth detaches from his healing skin, the scabs releasing as Hux rips the cloth away from Poe’s chest and torso. It’s almost as if Ren’s lightsaber has pierced him once more, his entire being feeling like it’s gone up in flames. Poe can’t even hear himself screaming, the throbbing in his ears overtake the guttural sounds coming out of his throat.

If incapacitating Poe was Hux’s intent, it worked. Poe barely registers the troopers dragging him backward again, lifting his arms upward between the two posts. A low hum emanates from the ground as the cuffs still around Poe’s wrists magnetically latch to the power generated by the posts. A blue light illuminates the successful attachment. Poe’s head sags between his shoulders, he sees the fresh blood dripping down his chest hitting the ground as the troopers spread his legs and lock his ankles to the posts as well. That bubbling panic finally clutches onto Poe as his chest heaves despite the rippling pain it causes with each breath.

“Where did you get that nasty wound from?” Hux asks, mocking concern as he strides over to Poe, hovering over him. Hux was always taller than Poe, but his spread-eagle position made Hux seem even bigger in comparison. Poe bites his lip, and looks away. Hux grabs him by the chin, “Why, you’re usually so talkative. Why so quiet? Don’t you want to show this crowd the cocky young Resistance pilot you so desperately want everyone to see?”

Poe knows better, but his logical thinking is lost among the disarray, and he spits in Hux’s face. Some blood is intermingled with his saliva from biting his lip. Poe swears he can see it sizzle against Hux’s flushed, angry face. Hux punches Poe under his chin, his teeth clattering together on impact. Poe groans, tasting blood.

“That was my doing,” Ren’s voice booms out over the yard, remaining near the door.

Hux wipes his face, quickly regaining his upper hand, “You think this hurts now?” he seethes, taking his gloved hand and sticking one finger into Poe’s wound, “This is nothing.”

Poe’s eyes feel like they’ve rolled into the back of his skull, as he attempts to block out the searing pain signals his body keep firing. He tries to hold in the tears, but his cheeks remain wet as he chokes on a sob.

Hux steps aside for a moment, removing his bloody glove, throwing it to the floor. “You see, Poe Dameron, you’ve lost. You probably had your little victory party as you and your fellow traitors celebrated the murder of countless souls. I hope you enjoyed that. I really do.”

Poe gingerly lifts his head up, channeling all of his physical pain into the anger that keeps his head on straight in these situations. As many times as Poe tells people he fights for a noble cause, when he’s alone, he is fueled by rage. The injustices Poe witnesses are what keep him going, more so than the idealistic future he often envisions. The anger calms him and keeps his aim sharp.

Hux motions to the troopers next to Poe, who quickly march over to stand next to the general. “Remove your helmets,” he orders, and the two oblige. Poe is stunned for a moment, unsure of what is happening. He flashes back to that narrow hallway and the Stormtrooper, whom he thought was leading him to his death, removing his helmet too. Though this time it wasn’t Finn’s gentle eyes beneath it. One, a woman, very young, with piercing purple eyes and short brown hair, the other a man with deep set features and graying hair stare back at him, furious.

“Do you know who they are?” Hux asks.

“What? No. No, why would I?” Poe sputters, his voice hoarse.

“We train our soldiers very well, Dameron. We use a little thing called discipline.”

Poe, confused, darts his eyes around to the crowd before him and the two individuals who break the uniformity. Why them? Who are they? Is he supposed to know who they are?

“We train them to forgo emotion,” Hux continues, “To do the task at hand without any interference. With no regret afterwards. No questioning of motive.”

All Poe can think of is Finn and what they did to him and how they tried to brainwash him, “Well it seems like you weren’t totally successful,” Poe spits, “Bet you’ve got a few more defectors in that crowd who’d love to come join us instea—”

Suddenly Poe’s body is coursing with electricity, coming from the poles into his cuffs and radiating through his body. He writhes in pain as it invades every inch of his body down to his bones. As soon as it came on, it stops, leaving Poe breathless and blinded for a moment.

“You’d do best to control that mouth of yours,” Hux muses, “Or we will do it for you. You never answered my question. Do you know who they a—”

“No!” Poe interrupts, visibly frustrated, “I have no fucking clue who they are.”

“They are survivors of the massacre at Starkiller.”

Poe inhales sharply, his anger replaced by shock. His eyes widen as he looks again at the two helmetless Stormtroopers who are so suddenly human in front of him.

“That’s right. They saw their comrades die. Their friends. Their family. We discourage emotion, but right now, we are allowing them to feel. Just for you. Just for the person who killed the people whom they swore an allegiance to.”

Poe knows that Hux is trying to rile him up. He’s trying to get him to react, in any way. They might still be recording everything, he can’t give in now, especially now. Yet, as he looks into their eyes he sees something so innately human in them. He’s never had to see the aftermath of his actions before. _It’s war,_ he reminds himself, _sacrifices must be made. They made their choice. So did I._

“Do you have anything you’d like to say to them?” Hux asks.

Poe steels himself, “No. I have nothing to say,” he says, with as little emotion as he can muster.

“Because you had a lot to say earlier, what was it again?” Hux motions to someone off to the side, and suddenly a large holodisplay behind them lights up with Poe’s face and his voice cries out: “It’s war. Shit happens.”

Poe chokes as he inhales, realizing that was what he’d just said in the room with Ren earlier. Ren wasn’t lying. They all saw that. Feeling what’s left of his confidence slip away, Poe shifts into full defensive mode, firing back, “You cut out the part where I said we were _defending_ ourselves because you were going to do it first. You were going to blow us up fi—”

Poe’s voice is cut off as his throat constricts, the air trapped in his lungs. It is Ren. The invisible hand around his neck loosens as Ren finally leaves his position near the door and walks over to Hux and the two unmasked troopers. Poe coughs as he gasps for breath, his entire body aching.

“He’s yours,” Ren says to the two troopers.

“No,” Poe whispers, his stomach sinking with dread.

The two run over to Poe. The woman slaps Poe across his right cheek, the impact tingling as she reaches back and does it again. And again.

“This is for my brother,” she spits as she balls her hand into a fist and collides with his right cheekbone, the pain radiating through his jaw.

As she does that, the man comes up beside him and punches him in his left side. Poe cries out as he hears and feels a crack in his ribcage. His weight sags downward, pulling against the heavy cuffs on his wrists. He feels his wounded left wrist give out. Poe wails. The man, with furrowed eyebrow, lifts his leg and knees Poe in the groin while punching him in the ribs again. Poe’s eyes roll back, his head swimming.

“Enough!” comes Hux’s voice, from what seems like miles away.

Poe whimpers, almost thankful.

“Save some for the rest of them.”

Poe jerks his head up and looks to where Hux and Ren are standing. Behind them is a line, seemingly unending, of Stormtroopers and officers, all emanating an angry energy, ready to unleash it onto their vulnerable target.

Poe’s breaths come in short, labored spurts as Hux encroaches upon him. “Do you want to beg for mercy now?” Hux murmurs, running his hand over Poe’s bruising cheek. Poe recoils from his touch, but Hux grabs onto his hair, cranking his head to the side, whispering into his ear, his voice full of menace.

“Because if there ever was a time, this is it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely want to thank you all for hanging in there with the waits in between chapters but I just want to make sure that I am giving you guys the best stuff I can muster. I honestly would have never ever thought this would grow into what it has and it's daunting and exciting at the same time. Your support means everything to me, so thank you again.
> 
> That being said, things don't look too hot for our guy...every time I consider being nice to him, I end up pivoting in the exact opposite direction!
> 
> Chapter title from [The Only Thing Worth Fighting For](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mjg43nzSYck) by Lera Lynn


	19. i don't need any help to be breakable, believe me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: threats of rape/non-con, ongoing major injury, aftermath of torture

Poe can’t remember when exactly he blacked out, how many punches it took before his body decided to mercifully let him drift away.

He wakes abruptly, inhaling sharply, met instantly with searing pain as his lungs expand against what had to be broken ribs. The stabbing sensation against his torso is only exacerbated by the lightsaber wound, uncovered, still weeping blood. Poe would have doubled over in an attempt to stifle the myriad pains wracking his body, but he realizes immediately that he’s still strung up outside.

Panic grips his stomach, had he only been unconscious for a moment? Is this not over yet? He lifts his head up to look around, but he can’t open his left eye as it’s swollen shut, marbled purple and blue skin now a bubble over his eye. Squinting his right eye open, he notices that it’s dark outside. And he’s alone. Gratefully alone. The knot of fear unravels only slightly as he makes sense of what happened to him.

Most of his body is numb from the uncomfortable position he’s been hanging in for hours, but as his mind becomes more aware, the nerves begin to remind him of everywhere it hurts. Every breath feels like he’s got rocks settled in the bottom of his lungs, he coughs, tasting blood.

And then it hits him: he’s probably never going home.

There’s just no way that this ends in him being alive, much less merely getting out of here. Poe finally lets the tears come, knowing that nobody is watching him anymore. He doesn’t have to wear the mask of the tough, unflappable Resistance pilot. He doesn’t have to pretend to be strong right now, because he knows that he isn’t strong in this moment.

He gingerly raises his head to look up at the sky, the stars sparkling in the blanket of darkness. What he wouldn’t give to get lost up there; flying with no purpose other than to keep moving and end up somewhere he’d never been before. It was always the stars that could realign him when he felt off, when he felt hopeless, he could find the beauty again up there. He chokes on a sob, coughing on the blood in his throat. The metallic taste of blood mixes with the salt in his tears.

“I—I’m sorry, Finn. I wa—wanted to make it home to you. I don’t think…I don’t know….if I’ll ever…” Poe cries to himself quietly, his voice high-pitched and trembling. He pictures Finn’s smiling face from the moment they were reunited on the base at D’qar, both having thought the other was dead. That leaping excitement and disbelief and pure happiness all rolled into one moment. Poe hopes that Finn is able to smile like that again.

“Shut up,” comes a voice to Poe’s right, or is it his left? His head has been swimming with vertigo since he woke up, his ears ringing from the blows he took earlier, unable to align where the sounds are coming from.

“Wh—what?” Poe mumbles, squinting, trying to find the source of the voice. Had it just been in his head? He could have sworn he was alone up here. _Of course they wouldn’t leave you alone,_ he chastises himself as he hears the clanking of Stormtrooper armor come up behind him. Before Poe can react, the trooper slaps him the back of the head. Poe lets out a shuddering exhale as his exhausted body attempts to weather the blow. He squeezes his eyes shut as he waits for the wave of pain to subside slightly.

“I don’t even know why we have to be out here, he’s not going anywhere,” the trooper says, agitated.

“Because those are your orders, trooper.”

_Shit._

Poe didn’t even need to turn his head to decipher who was talking.

“This one can be, well, creative, and we don’t want to take any risks, now do we?”

_Why did it have to be him again?_ Poe yearns for the time, just a few minutes ago, where he could at least suffer in peace.

“How are you feeling?”

It may be dark, but Poe can still see the bright shock of red hair coming into his one-eyed view. Poe doesn’t respond; he’s too exhausted to be smart-alecky. It’s also out of self preservation. Normally, Poe can take a hit or two for his big mouth, but right now he can’t.

Not like being quiet helps much, anyway.

Hux slaps Poe, his jaw clicking as he absorbs the blow, “I asked you a question.”

_Ok, fine, if this is how it’s going to be._

“Fantastic,” Poe says, drily, spitting a glob of blood and saliva onto the ground.

“Ooh, that looks like it hurts,” Hux coos, mockingly as he cups Poe’s chin and brushes his finger against his swollen eye. Poe recoils instinctively at the touch. “You did such a good job today. You make for such a great show.”

Poe exhales through his nose audibly, fuming.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Hux exclaims, moving his hand from Poe’s chin to wrapping his spindly fingers around Poe’s neck, “I know you want to _spit_ on me, again, like the feral creature you are, but I’d reconsider.”

Poe grunts as Hux’s fingers wrap tighter around his neck, the anger boiling, but he must hold it back, he has to. Poe can feel tears squeezing out of his puffy eye, as he tries to contain his emotions threatening to come bursting out at any moment.

“Good boy,” Hux says, patronizingly, as he lets go of Poe’s throat. Poe gasps in another painful wheezing breath, thankful for the air. “I think it’s time to reward your small moment of obedience,” Hux turns to the troopers standing guard nearby, “Bring him to my quarters.”

Poe’s heart sinks instantly.

“No,” he whispers, seeing Hux’s scarily gleeful expression, “No. No, no please.”

Hux turns on his heels and walks toward the door, his short cape fluttering in the wind.

“No, no, no,” Poe mutters, his heart racing. He knows exactly what this means and this cannot happen. Suddenly, the tension in the cuffs that held him upright is no longer there and Poe pitches forward. With not enough time to react, he just curls in on himself to shelter the fall, but the impact isn’t lessened. His broken ribs hit the hard ground unceremoniously; he yelps out in pain, his voice echoing throughout the empty grounds.

His feet fall from their position as well, the heavy shackles still fastened to his wrists and ankles. He tries to move his limbs to crawl away, but the weight is too much, he is too weak to lift himself up.

The troopers come over and pull him up under his shoulders, even the slightest touch bringing immeasurable pain. Poe moans with each movement, every sensation amplified. One of the troopers elbows him in the side, telling him again to shut up. Poe doubles over, his stomach churning, he spits up only bile as he can’t remember the last time he’s eaten.

“Come on,” one of the Stormtroopers says, clearly annoyed, as they drag Poe toward the door, his ankle cuffs clanking against every bump in the ground. Poe wants to fight back, to resist, but his strength is so drained, he can barely keep his head up.

Despite his physical strength having waned, his mind is charging full speed ahead. He attempts to push away the bombardment of fear attacking him at all corners, but that can’t assuage him from the feeling that his worst fears are coming true. Poe can take the physical beating, the mental probing, the public humiliation, but not this. It’s a violation of one’s self at the deepest level, and Hux knows it. All Poe can remember is all the times Hux came on to him, and that one time where he made him change in front of him. Hux’s warm breath on his neck was enough to terrify Poe, but somehow he managed to dodge him every time. Was this the final time from which he cannot escape?

Completely lost in thought, Poe doesn’t pay attention to re-entering the building and moving through the byzantine hallways. They could’ve walked him in circles, and Poe would not have noticed. What he did notice though, is when they stopped.

The door is nondescript; it’s like any other door in this endless hall of rooms. Poe is completely alert, his breathing comes in short painful spurts. His legs tremble beneath him, though they aren’t even holding him up anymore. He taps into the reserves of his strength and pulls his arms in resistance to the troopers’ grip. It is fruitless, but Poe keeps trying.

“No. No please, you can’t. Don’t make me…” Poe sputters, despite knowing that his words meant nothing. He gets another elbow to the side for his talking, but he can’t stop, “Please, no. No. No.”

The door opens.

Poe adjusts his one working eye and all he can see is a bed, and Hux, standing beside it.

Poe’s entire lower body goes numb.

“No, please,” he whimpers, barely mouthing the last word.

“You can place him here, and then leave us,” Hux orders, motioning towards the bed.

With his last burst of energy, Poe plants his feet, ignoring the shooting pain firing up his heels, and fights against the two troopers, screaming.

It is to no avail. The Stormtroopers easily overpower the weakened Poe, tossing him face down onto the bed. Poe, dazed, remains there for a moment, his face pressed against the mattress, his body reminding him yet again how injured he is.

The door shuts.

“Well then,” Hux purrs, the menace dripping from every syllable, “you’re finally mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's my first disclaimer of a few, based on the end of this chapter, you can deduce what is going to happen next. That is why I have split this part in two. The next chapter is solely the rape/non-con content, so you can skip it if you want and not miss any of the plot, though there will be references in the aftermath, but the scene itself is contained within the next chapter. I wanted to make sure anyone who is uncomfortable with that explicit content could still continue with the story. I hope that works!
> 
> That being said, because I already have it written before I split it into two chapters, that means you get two chapters tonight!
> 
> Thanks again for sticking along with this with me! Apologies for not replying to all the comments, it's been a long week (understatement of the year for any kind of progressive person in the US as we all know how traumatic things are and are about to become after this election. Know that I am here for anyone feeling hopeless or lost at this time). That being said, it took me a long time to sit down and start writing again, but it's been cathartic in a way. Thanks for coming on this journey with me, there's still a lot to come. :)
> 
> Chapter title from [Slipped](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fRyHDBWKLzI) by The National


	20. you were there to see me beg and kneel, what kind of man would ask me then if he could make a deal?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *****TRIGGER WARNING*****  
> violent rape/non-con content throughout this whole chapter
> 
> You can skip this chapter if you want to continue with the plot as the above mentioned content is contained within this chapter. The aftermath will still be a part of what's to come, but the actual scene is here.
> 
> ***2nd note, if you're coming here from the email alert, I published two chapters in a row. This is 2 of 2, there's another one before this!

Poe is frozen in place. Every atom of his being is screaming at him to fight back, to do whatever he can to escape. _Save yourself, Poe. Save yourself!_

But he doesn’t move.

He is completely numb.

_This can’t be happening._

“I enjoy seeing you like this,” Hux growls, “The famed Resistance ace, lying prone on my bed. Ready for me to control as I please. I like control, I _crave_ it. And you’re my final condundrum: the one I could not tame, nor control. But I’ve finally got you where I want you.”

Poe swallows the hard lump growing in his throat, the quivering at his groin getting stronger with every passing second. His whole body shivers as Hux traces the curvature of his spine, his stomach threatening to spew bile all over the bed.

Poe has been in countless firefights among the stars, he’s battled on the ground. Each of those times, he relied on instinct and experience to get him out and keep him safe. But this is uncharted territory. Poe has never felt so vulnerable and exposed, and he doesn’t know how to fight back. Even the words which come to his tongue so easily find themselves trapped in his terrified gasps.

Hux’s fingers maneuver down from Poe’s neck, down his bruised back, to the waist of his pants. Before Hux can go any further, Poe shifts his body away, groaning. He lifts up his right arm and tries to use his right elbow to push Hux away. But Hux just laughs, grabbing Poe’s shackled wrists and pulling his arms above his head. Poe cries out as his broken left wrist gives out again with the pressure. Hux fastens the two cuffs together at the head of the bed, a magnetic field again trapping Poe in place.

“No!” Poe yells, his voice cracking, as he squirms against his bonds. His breathing is erratic, every inhale and exhale is loud and frantic.

“Shhh,” Hux purrs, shifting his body weight on top of Poe, placing his head in the nape of Poe’s neck, breathing into his ear, “The less you struggle, the easier this will be for you. I will enjoy myself either way, though so do what you like.”

Hux unclasps his cape, letting it fall to the side of the bed. He removes his shirt quickly, throwing it down as well. Hux then reaches his hand down Poe’s pants. Poe gasps, and clenches himself immediately. “No, you’re not going to…no, you….won’t….no….” he wheezes.

Hux ignores Poe’s pleading, as he shifts down Poe’s body and off the foot of the bed. He removes the shackles from Poe’s ankles, then reaches up to the belt of his pants and begins to slide them off.

Poe reacts, his feet suddenly free, he kicks his legs up, hoping to hit Hux, but he deftly dodges Poe’s kicks.

“No! F—fuck you! Get off me! G—get off!” Poe screams.

Hux stops in place. Poe freezes for a moment. _Why did he stop?_

Hux comes around to the left side of the bed where Poe’s head is tilted to, and kneels down to Poe’s level. Even with one bad eye, Poe can see the anger and desire flaming in the back of Hux’s eyes. Hux grabs Poe’s hair, yanking it backward, tears springing out in reaction. “You need to keep quiet here,” Hux seethes, “or I _will_ shut you up.”

This is all Poe needs to hear. If Hux needs him to be quiet, that’s because Hux isn’t supposed to be doing this. He’s afraid he’ll get in trouble. Poe has his upper hand, a small one, an improbable one, but he’ll take what he can get. He needs to make enough noise to cause a disturbance to interrupt this.

Poe keeps quiet, as if he’s obeying Hux. Hux, seemingly satisfied, walks back to the end of the bed, and goes back to removing Poe’s pants. He reaches his hands under Poe’s hips, making a note to touch Poe as he pulls the rough fabric down his legs. Poe shudders at the touch, but he still remains silent, biting his lip, drawing blood.

Poe hears his clothing hit the floor with a thud, and before Hux can get anywhere near him, he begins screaming at the top of his lungs. It isn’t even words, it’s just noise. Poe doesn’t even care how much it hurts to yell, he just keeps calling out as loud as he can muster, “No! Get off me! No! Stop!”

Hux leaps to the side of the bed, grabs the shirt which he’d shed moments ago and shoves a ball of the fabric into Poe’s mouth. Poe attempts to spit it out, but Hux’s grip is too strong. He takes the sleeves of the shirt and ties them behind Poe’s head, effectively gagging him. Poe pushes his tongue out to expel it, but it’s too tightly bound around his neck. Poe’s screams are suddenly stifled, his cries lost into the cloth shoved in his mouth.

Hux paces to the door for a moment to see if anyone heard Poe’s screaming. When nobody comes, he is satisfied. He crawls back on top of Poe, who is now completely exposed and shivering. “Are you scared?” Hux taunts, running his hands down Poe’s thighs, “Because you should be.”

The moment of confidence having been dampened, brings Poe back to his original numbness. He cannot move, minus the involuntary shiver that rolls through his body and the heaving breaths that come with difficulty through his nose, now that his mouth is obstructed.

“You’re quite the little actor,” Hux intones, “You could have had a different future, perhaps. In another world. But that’s not the world you’re in right now. You can pretend all you want in front of a crowd, in front of Ren. Pretend you’re tough and invulnerable. But not with me. In here I get to see your true self. When I strip it all away, what will be left?”

Poe whimpers; he knows that he cannot fight back. Maybe if he just lets it happen, it will be over faster. He’s given in, what else can he do?

“What will be left?” Hux repeats, his hand gliding down the nape of Poe’s back and into the crack of his ass. Poe instinctively clinches his legs together, but Hux just slaps him. “Now, now.”

“Fuck you,” Poe yells though his gag, his words muffled into nonsense.

Hux pushes himself further down the bed and spreads Poe’s thighs apart with ease, slipping his knees in between Poe’s so he cannot close them. He again takes his hand, caressing the inner part of Poe’s thigh, he reaches his hand up to spread Poe’s cheeks. Poe’s muscles contract to no avail, the panic settling in, Poe squirms and kicks but it doesn’t matter. Hux is already inside him.

Poe inhales, groaning, the pressure building as Hux spreads his fingers. Poe’s head tilts back as his mind races, his entire being violated. The pain is minimal compared to the injuries on his body, but this hurts more than that.

“My, you’re tight, aren’t you? Couldn’t get your little traitor to loosen you up, huh?” Hux jeers as he jabs his hand in deeper.

Poe switches instantly from fear to anger at the mention of Finn. _This isn’t about him_. Poe screams uselessly into his gag, pushing back against Hux, but doing so only helps Hux to get further in. Poe groans, the tears springing from his eyes, staining the sheets beneath him.

Suddenly, Hux removes his fingers from Poe. Poe heaves a shuddering breath through his nose with relief, but knows that it’s far from over.

“Now that you’re all warmed up,” Hux begins, as he shuffles off the bed, removing his own pants. Poe can’t see, but he hears the contact of skin on skin as Hux prepares himself. Poe cannot control the full body shivers. _This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening._

“Shh, don’t struggle. Make this easy on yourself,” Hux coos as he repositions himself over Poe’s helpless body. Poe closes his eyes, tries to disassociate, but it’s pointless. Poe is yanked back into reality as Hux shoves himself into Poe, his hips making contact with Poe’s ass as his skin is stretched to its breaking point. Poe’s muted yelps coming in waves as Hux violently thrusts himself deeper into Poe, his moans of desire like poison in Poe’s ears.

It didn’t matter how long it lasted, it already went on for too long. Poe’s heart beats angrily in his chest, the air expelled roughly from his lungs with every shove, his body contorted into all sorts of painful positions. It didn’t matter if his whole body exploded, the damage was already done.

“Oh, yes!” Hux growls, speeding up his invasion, the quiet thump of skin contact between the two echoing throughout the silent room as Poe has found nothing left in him to exclaim anymore.

And then Hux cries out, Poe’s insides filling with the warmth of Hux’s pleasure.

Hux pulls out, reddened with satisfaction. Poe remains motionless, almost stunned. He can feel the wet remnants dripping down his thigh and he shudders.

Hux gets up, paces the room energetically, then stops in his tracks, “We aren’t finished yet.”

Poe’s exhausted brain kicks back into high gear. _No._

Hux walks around to the side of the bed, fiddling with Poe’s handcuffs. Poe feels the tension release that was holding his arms up to the front of the bed. “Get up,” he orders.

Poe’s bleary mind can barely comprehend.

“Get up!” Hux yells, angrier. He grabs Poe’s locked arms and drags him to the edge of the bed. Poe’s healing wound peels away from the sheets bringing the fiery pain again. Poe squints to see Hux’s naked body in front of him, and immediately turns away. Poe tries to shift his weight onto his right arm to lift himself up, but his body feels like dead weight.

Hux, growing impatient, pulls Poe off the bed head first. Poe doesn’t even try to avoid the impact, knowing it will be painful regardless. His legs slump off the bed and onto the ground; huddled into himself, Poe wishes he could just melt into the floor and disappear.

Hux steps over briefly to his pile of discarded clothes while Poe catches his breath, fearful of what is still to come.

“On your knees,” Hux barks.

Poe grunts, knowing he can’t possibly push himself upward right now. He waits, expecting Hux to shove him and pull him up, but he doesn’t. No more orders come, either. Hux is waiting. Poe knows that disobedience will only bring him more suffering, and he wants this to be over as quickly as possible. Poe shifts himself onto his right elbow, tucking his legs beneath him. Gingerly, he presses upward, exerting more effort than he thought this would need. He wobbles as he comes to a seated position, this seemingly enough for Hux as he approaches Poe.

“Look at me,” Hux demands.

Poe opens his one good eye and focuses it on Hux, recoiling slightly, seeing Hux’s penis dangling dangerously close to him. He tries to look beyond it and up to Hux’s face. Hux grunts his approval at Poe’s glance, then bends down to his level. Hux places his face alongside Poe’s, the heat of his body radiating. He leans into Poe’s ear and hisses, “I’m going to remove this gag and you aren’t going to make a sound.” Poe considers it a moment before he feels the cold muzzle of a blaster pointed directly at his neck, “You aren’t going to make a sound.”

Poe nods ever so slightly, so Hux reaches around and releases the knot behind Poe’s neck, pulling the fabric from his mouth. A string of Poe’s saliva trails as it leaves his mouth. Poe inhales deeply through as he adjusts his jaw from its locked position. Poe is relieved for a moment to have the gag removed until he looks up at Hux and realizes why it was taken out.

“No,” he whispers.

Hux presses the muzzle harder into Poe’s neck, Poe closes his eyes, turning his head away, “I _said,_ not a sound.”

Poe keeps his eyes closed, half expecting Hux to just fire his blaster and end it all, but he knows better.

Hux cups Poe’s chin and pulls it closer to him, “Take me into your mouth.”

Poe’s lower lip trembles as he fights back tears; it was almost as if he could ignore it laying face down on his stomach, pretend it was imaginary, almost in denial of what is going on, as if he’s in a nightmare or an alternate reality. The refusal to come to terms is a survival mechanism that Poe learned early; never accept that you’re giving in or losing, pretend that everything is always ok. Now that he was staring Hux down it felt painfully real.

“Or what?” Poe says, hesitantly, his voice small, “You’ll kill me? Ren wouldn’t like that.”

“I don’t _care_ what Ren wants,” Hux explodes, “I am going to get what _I_ want!” Hux clenches Poe’s jaw in his hand, “You’ve been so good so far, don’t ruin it for yourself now.”

It’s self preservation at this point, Poe figures, slowly opening his mouth. Hux pounces, shoving himself down Poe’s throat. Poe chokes on the violent entrance, tears streaming down his face, not from the pain, but the embarrassment and the shame for giving in so easily.

“If you bite me, I will kill you,” Hux hisses, his voice tremulous with delight.

Hux thrusts himself into Poe’s head as he takes his hand and hold’s the back of Poe’s neck close, his fingers entwined in his hair. Poe struggles for breath as Hux holds on and won’t let go. Hux moans in pleasure, Poe wants to throw up regardless of the fact that his gag reflex is being assaulted.

Hux stops abruptly, his manhood erect and trembling, he rolls his head back as he shudders, filling Poe’s throat with his seed. He retracts from Poe, kneeling down to clasp his hand over Poe’s mouth, “Swallow it, swallow me, you whore,” he orders, face flushed bright red. He slaps Poe’s cheek with his free hand, Poe gags, his one good eye bulging and bloodshot. Poe finally relents, and swallows, his face contorted in agony. Hux lets go of Poe and breathes in, content. Poe falls backward against the bed, completely spent.

“I guess this is what is left of you, isn’t it?” Hux taunts, Poe looking down at the ground, motionless.

“You did well,” Hux says, almost nonchalantly, bending over to pick up his clothes, walking to the other side of the room. “I’m going to freshen up now, don’t you move.”

Poe doesn’t think he could move even if he wanted to.

Hux steps into the fresher in the other room, and Poe finally cries out, sobbing into the quiet emptiness.

He’s never felt more alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was really exhausting to write, but narratively it made sense. I am here in the comments with love and hugs after all of this so come find me there. <3
> 
> Chapter title from [It Only takes One Shot](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yL2JgT04ULw) by Lera Lynn


	21. the blood will flow into the ocean, the voices breaking with the motion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: aftermath of rape/non-con, threats of rape non-con, ongoing injuries

Poe stayed there, leaned against the bed until he drifted away into sweet unconsciousness.

When he woke up, he dared not open his eyes, well eye, singular, as his left eye is still swollen shut, a dull ache in the back of his head. That moment of awakening, suspended in mid-air, knowing that whatever is on the other side of awareness will change everything.

He prepared himself to still be lying prone in Hux’s quarters.

Thankfully he was not.

The brief swell of relief was all Poe needed to realign himself with reality despite the crushing realization of what transpired merely a few standard hours ago.

_Why did you just let it happen? Why didn’t you fight back?_

_I couldn’t._

_Well at least you survived._

_Survived the first time._

Poe retches up what little bile he has left churning in his stomach at the epiphany that this is far from over. He pines for the time he was strapped to that metal table, at least he knew what to expect there. The physical torture he’d suffered at the hands of the First Order felt like a mere warmup, but to what end? Would he survive this? Or would he remain, static, trapped in a loop of pain to which there is no escape?

Poe feels his lower lip trembling and he knows that it is inevitable. He takes in a labored, quivering breath as his limbs begin to tingle and his whole body gives in. His sobs echo through the small cell to which he is once again confined, the desperate wails of someone looking for even the smallest thing to hold onto. He tries to stretch out his legs, but even the tiniest motion hurts, his muscles protesting over every inch of his body.

He’s managed to stay hopeful all this time, but that spark inside grows dimmer with every passing second. He has no idea what they even need him for anymore, though he knows now what he’s _wanted_ for. What he knows for sure is that his chances for escape are closer to zero than they’ve ever been. His body can barely sustain his basic functions, much less a willful usage of his limbs to get him somewhere else. He can’t remember the last time he walked on his own accord and wasn’t being dragged somewhere. Besides that, the Resistance wouldn’t mount a full-scale attack to save him, one person, when the cause is far greater. It’s a bitter realization, but he understands why.

Every negative feeling Poe tries to suppress manages to find him in isolation, especially when he’s too weak to fight it off. Regret for taking this stupid mission, what was even the point anyway? General Leia just wanted him to get off his ass and stop moping, and this is where it took him. He’s angry, but angry at her? Angry at himself? The pent up rage inside him boiling, Poe screams, his throat raw, but the pain matters little to him anymore. He needs to scream and shout, he wants to punch the walls, himself. His cheeks burning red, the tears flowing freely into a small puddle on the cold ground.

Suddenly Poe’s voice cracks, turning small. He mumbles words to himself, but there are no coherent thoughts anymore. Having exhausted his emotions for the time being, he lay motionless, vacantly staring into the dark, a shell of his former self.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Poe wonders if he should just begin to measure the days by when he gets shaken awake and dragged into some new corner of the base. He doesn’t even try to fight back, he barely has the strength to groan as his body cries out at every bump, bristle and shove.

He is roughly thrown into a chair in the middle of a nondescript looking room, though it’s brighter than most of the ones he’s managed to occupy in his time here. He isn’t restrained at all, maybe because nobody expects any conflict from a man in his state. The troopers who escorted him there leave wordlessly, the airlock closing tightly behind him.

Poe slumps over, unable to hold himself fully upright. Having lamented his loneliness earlier, he wishes very much that he could remain alone. Contact with other people almost always meant pain, and he can’t face _him_ right now. Poe squeezes his eyes shut, scowling at the mere thought of him, his heart suddenly beginning to race.

The door opens, Poe gasps, his chest tight with panic.

It’s almost a _relief_ when he sees that it’s Ren who has decided to join him.

“Your face has looked better.”

_Charming._

“Thanks for noticing,” Poe spit, his lip cracking open, sending a small trickle of blood down his chin.

“I regret we had to do it that way…” Ren begins, but Poe cuts him off.

“Bullshit.”

Ren’s voice immediately darkens, “You should be thanking me. We had calls from near everyone to have you executed. Fortunately, _for you,_ General Hux and I see the value in keeping you alive.”

Poe grimaces at the mention of Hux’s name. For a moment, to be honest, Poe was thankful. He knew that crowd wanted his blood, and all of it. Poe knows that his life comes with a price, one he probably won’t be happy to pay. “Is that your way of saying that I owe you something now?”

“Your debt to us reaches far beyond that, but yes, in time.”

“In time?” Poe yells out, his fury simmering, “How much more _time_ do you need from me? What have you been doing all this while then? Huh? What the _fuck_ is this all for?” He knows he shouldn’t have exploded, but his sanity is hanging on by a tenuous thread and he’s losing control.

Ren doesn’t respond, which is almost worse. The silence grates in Poe’s ears, he moans, lowering his head down, trying to center himself, control his breathing, but everything feels like it’s spiraling downward at lightspeed.

Suddenly a klaxon sounds, filling the room with ear splitting noise, the lights flickering. Poe is instantly transported back to when they were depriving him of sleep. Panic grips him for a moment, but he just as quickly realizes they wouldn’t be doing that now. He manages to look up, and Ren seems as confused as he is.

Ren glides briskly to the door, where the dull sound of many people walking through the hallway amplifies as he opens the door. A muffled groan comes shortly after.

“What is going on?” Ren demands. Poe tries to turn over his shoulder to see what is happening, but his neck is so sore the quick movement nearly paralyzes the right side of his body with a shooting pain.

“An evacuation drill, sir,” comes the strained response.

“An _evacuation drill?_ So we are _not_ currently under attack right now? Who authorized this?”

“I—I’m not sure…” the man’s voice cut off abruptly.

“Where is General Hux? Can’t this noise be turned off? We are….expecting an important guest and I will _not stand_ for this level of disarray.”

“No, sir…I—I don’t know sir, the control room?”

A thud, as the man most likely fell to the floor. Poe can feel Ren’s anger radiating from where he is sitting. The marching sound of feet on the ground is unexpectedly muffled as the airlock door closes. Ren has left him. Poe can’t help but feel like he dodged blaster fire here, but for how long? Ren will be back, and maybe with Hux this time. Poe shudders at the thought.

An evacuation _drill._ Not the squadrons of X-wings coming to save him like he’d pictured so many times while trying to sleep, or drown out the trouble of reality. It was different every time, he plotted out maneuvers of flying that were probably physically impossible, but it was his imagination, he could do what he wanted. Tucking the S-foils in to zip between buildings, like a maze. He could practically feel his hands on the controls of Black One as he flew in as an out of body experience to come save himself.

Poe’s daydream is interrupted by the door re-opening. His fictional bliss, short-lived, Poe’s heart sinking as he waited for his new torment.

To his surprise, it wasn’t Ren, it was a First Order officer: a stern-looking woman, and a Stormtrooper.

“Get up,” the woman says, “this is a drill. We are here to escort you out.”

“Wh—what?” Poe mutters, incredulously. He groans as the trooper reaches under his arm to pull him up.

“Help me,” the trooper says, another female voice. The woman grabs Poe’s left arm and they pull him up from the seat, his feet failing to catch his weight beneath him.

“Wait,” Poe cries out, “Kylo Ren has me here. I—I don’t think he…”

He realizes how silly he sounds asking to stay here, prone and waiting for them to come back to him, but he knew that he’d bear the brunt of the error even if these people were just doing their job, oblivious to the situation.

“The general asked for you,” the woman replies, curtly.

Poe’s voice gets caught in his throat. “No,” he whispers, barely audible.

Gripped with fear, Poe finds no strength left in him to resist them pushing him out the door and into the crowd of Stormtroopers and officers pouring out of every room, around every corner. The white helmets fly by in a blur as the world slows down around Poe. His breathing is louder in his ears than the blaring alarm going off.

The dread grows with every step, Poe wonders if this whole thing was just an elaborate ruse by Hux to get them alone again. He wouldn’t put it past him.

Poe realizes that they are running, his feet attempting to keep up with him, but the bustling crowd requires that they keep moving, or be trampled. Maybe this _is_ real. The urgency is palpable. The echoing of boots on the ground gets louder and louder, it feels as though his ears are about to burst. Poe squeezes his eyes shut for just a moment to block out the noise.

And in that instant, he loses his footing on a crack in the floor and slips forward, out of the hands of the Stormtrooper to his right. He hits the ground hard, dazed. Someone behind him immediately collides with his abdomen. Poe yelps out as his battered body barely is able to weather the blow. He careens across the floor, nearly hitting his head against the wall. Expletives fly overhead as voices join the cacophony of feet scrambling around.

Then suddenly, all goes quiet.

The Stormtrooper who dropped him reaches down to pick up his arm and moves him to the wall, propping him into a seated position. Poe blinks, trying to focus again, and gingerly lifts his head up, coming face to face with…General Hux.

Poe feels like he’s been kicked in the gut again.

He lowers his head, unable to make eye contact, but he can feel Hux seething with uncontained rage.

“What the hell are you doing with him out here? This was an unauthorized drill, and certainly no mandates were made about prisoner transport,” Hux exclaims.

No response comes. The troopers who had been marching or running earlier have all stopped to congregate to see what the commotion is. Poe can feel hundreds of sets of eyes beating down his neck.

“What are you all _looking at?_ ” Hux screams, eyes wild, “Keep moving or I’ll have you all sent for reconditioning!”

That got the crowd dispersing, walking patterns around the small bubble where Hux advanced toward Poe and his two captors.

“What is your name?” Hux asks, motioning to the woman officer to Poe’s left.

“Lieutenant Valara, sir,” comes the stilted reply.

“Who authorized this man’s transportation?” he demands, stifling his voice from a full blown yell.

“Kylo Ren,” the trooper replies, automatic, “He asked for him to be brought to his shuttle.”

“That’s _Lord Ren_ at your rank trooper. Careful, or I will have you sent away,” Hux says, darkly, “His shuttle? Did he plan this little drill as a diversion to seek out our guest alone? I—I will not allow…that.”

Poe hasn’t moved at all since he realized Hux was there, he feels incapable of moving, numb. Out of the corner of his one good eye, Poe can see Hux lowering to his level, and he can feel his cheeks flushing red, the tears threatening to spring out at any moment. He swallows the large lump expanding in his throat.

“I see you were having trouble walking there,” Hux purrs, just above a whisper, “I like to think that was my handiwork that will have you limping for days.” Poe looks up for a moment to see Hux’s pleased smirk, and quickly turns his head away, disgusted and ashamed, the tears finally coming forth.

Then a slap to his cheek, the sound stifled by the alarm quietly blaring in the distance and the sound of marching. The world moving on around him, while his own life falls to pieces.

“You will bring him to my chambers while I seek out Ren,” Hux orders to the women at his side.

“No, please!” Poe finally cries out, his voice scratchy against his dry throat.

Another slap to the face.

“Why not his cell?” the officer asked, “sir?” she adds on after a short moment.

“Do not question my orders, Lieutenant,” Hux bristles. He reaches out and strokes Poe’s chin, Poe flinches.

Poe hears Hux’s boots squeak against the polished floor as he raises up and about-faces, briskly walking away, probably to seek out Ren. He lets out the breath he feels like he’d been holding in since his arrival. He’s so swept up in his thoughts that he doesn’t register being lifted to his feet and scurried away through the thinner crowd of troopers and officers. The alarms are no longer sounding.

Now that the immediate threat had vanished, Poe realizes that the lieutenant had lied to Hux, or had she lied to Poe when she said they were seeking out Hux? Well, she hadn’t specified Hux. But still, it seemed odd, like she was hiding something. But what? And who was this guest that Ren and Hux seemed to be preparing for?

Poe’s line of internal questioning grinds to a halt as soon as he feels the rush of air to his face. Why are they outside?

“Wh—where are we going?” he asks, panicked. Afraid again that not following orders would mean more suffering for him, he just wants to keep his head down and not cause any more disturbances.

“Be quiet,” comes the rushed response of the Stormtrooper, as they hurriedly run across the field, Poe’s feet dragging through the grass.

Poe’s eye darts around to his surroundings, a sort of landing field for ships of all shapes and sizes, from troop transports to TIE fighters. Near the end of the strip was Ren’s shuttle, not the most subtle of ships, but it fits for its owner.

Maybe Ren did plan this as a way to get Poe away to himself, with that talk of debts, Poe didn’t really know what to expect anymore now that he thought he’d exhausted his usefulness.

Right before they reach Ren’s shuttle, Poe finds himself pivoted away to a troop transport not unlike the one he was stuffed into on Jakku, what feels like years ago.

“Wh—what’s g—going on?” he sputters, completely off-guard.

“Shut up, please,” the Stormtrooper yells in hushed tones as he’s ushered up the open ramp. As soon as they ascend, Poe is dropped to the ground as the officer runs to the front near the cockpit and the trooper fumbles with raising the platform.

“Have you got it?” the trooper yells from the back.

“I hope this combination still works,” shouts back the officer as the ship hums to life, “Yes!” she yells.

Poe is in shock; this can’t be happening. He can’t let false optimism win, but could this be?...

“Hold on back there!”

The trooper kneels down by Poe, “You should hold on to me,” she says.

“No!” he yells, recoiling, “Tell me what is going on!”

The trooper removes her helmet, revealing a clump of black hair plastered to her face, dreanched in sweat.

Poe knows that face.

“Jess?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .....they aren't quite out of hot water yet. ;)
> 
> Thanks for all your lovely comments and support throughout, it always blows my mind how awesome you guys are and I'm happy to contribute to such a bustling fan community. Makes all the hours spent writing, and re-writing (so much editing) so so worth it. <3
> 
> Chapter title from [Crucified Again](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YZaqmwvw9Z4) by Arcade Fire


	22. i know there's a way we can make 'em pay, think it over and say 'i'm never going back again'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: brief mention of aftermath of rape/non-con (no explicit details mentioned), ongoing injury

“Hold onto me!” Jess shouts, her eyes wild.

Poe is in really no state not to listen, so he tries to ignore the shooting pain up his ribs and chest from his grip on her as the ship violently beings to ascend. The two are huddled against the wall on the ramp with nothing but open space in front of them. No seats, shipping containers, nothing to grasp onto but each other as they lurch forward.

The take-off feels like it lasts forever, Poe’s battered body getting pulled around by the gravitational forces required to get airborne. He’s all too familiar with that, but he’s also usually the one in the cockpit and it’s designed to lessen the impact for the pilot. The pressure in his ears builds, he feels like his eyes could pop out of their socket, his head swimming.

And then, the release.

The ascent nearly complete, they begin to level off but Poe still feels unsteady as they hurdle towards….well, where are they going? What is happening? Is this all just a crazy dream? He feels Jess release her grip on him as she gingerly sets him against the wall.

She exhales, pushing her hair back, a small grin on her face until she looks at Poe, her face dropping instantly.

“Poe, I—I…you look awful.”

Poe chokes out a small laugh, but it comes out as more of a shudder as he tries to remain sitting upright.

“I’m sorry, I just mean….what did they do to you?”

Poe’s vision is still a bit blurry but he can see the tears springing to Jess’s eyes. Her lively demeanor snuffed out, replaced with worry. He feels his own lower lip begin to tremble, the emotions he’s been holding in for so long threatening to spill out at any minute.

“Poe, I want you to know,” Jess leans in, her voice small, barely a whisper, “we didn’t forget about you.”

Poe inhales, his breath whimpering as his body goes numb. He can't find words to respond, even if he could. Wanting to melt into the floor, the emotion finally taking over, he begins to sob. He can sense Jess’ warm presence nearby, but he thinks she’s hesitant to hold him lest she break him. She reaches her hand to his face, stroking it gently.

“Jess! Get up here now!” comes a frantic voice from the front of the ship.

Startled, she gets up and runs to the front, her boots a loud echoing, thumping sound against the walls. Poe takes in a few gasping breaths to steady himself as he attempts to rationalize what is going on. Has he finally been saved?

_They didn’t forget about me._

He’d spent so long in the depths of truest despair, convinced that he was going to die at the hands of his tormentors. At times he almost welcomed the darkness, as he foresaw it to be the only logical way out. The flicker of hope begins to re-light itself deep within himself again. Yet, he refuses to believe he’s really safe until he’s on the ground, back home at the base. Until then, anything can happen.

Jess comes running back to him, out of breath, her features etched with concern. “Alright Poe, I am going to need you to use the last of your strength and then you can rest. We can’t take this ship home; there’s too much risk in that. I took a small freighter when I and a few others implanted ourselves here undercover. It’s hidden just on the other side of the planet. We are going to land there and get in that ship, ok?”

Poe nods, his tired mind struggling to process the dearth of information.

“Here’s the thing, Valara said she can see someone tracking us. We’ve got some headway on them but I’m going to need you to run when we land. Can you do that for me?”

Poe hesitates, he shivers at the thought of just trying to stand up unaided, much less run. But if this is the last hurdle he has to clear in order to get home, then by the stars, he’s going to run.

“Yes,” he says, his throat raw.

“Good,” Jess nods curtly, clearly trying to hold back her own emotions as she looks at Poe’s beaten form staring at her, still finding a way to be strong.

“We will arrive at rendezvous point in one minute!” Valara calls out, “I predict approximately two minutes or less before they’ll catch up!”

Poe’s heart begins racing, half out of adrenaline for adventure, half out of pure terror. There is no way he is going back. No way.

He feels the floor beneath him give way as they begin to rapidly descend. Poe can tell this ship is not built for quick maneuvers like the ones that they are trying to pull as the ship groans and shudders with any slight movement. He begins sliding down the floor as he can no longer hold himself up against the pull of gravity. He yells out in surprise as he hears Jess in turn exclaim as she runs to catch him, but it’s too late. Poe slams against the retracted ramp with a deafening thud.

Poe wails out in pain as his entire body feels crushed by his own weight. Jess is now nearly on top of him, but her cries sound so faint in his ringing ears. She barely gets her hands around him to pull him up when the ship slams into the ground, the two of them bouncing on impact. Poe’s breath is caught in his chest, no time to prepare for the second blow. He falls into Jess’s lap, her legs taking most of the brunt, but the wind is knocked out of Poe’s lungs as he struggles to breathe again.

The ramp at their feet begins to lower, the cold night air whipping at their exposed skin. “Come on, let’s go!” Poe hears in the background, “They’ve gained on us!”

“Poe! Poe! Get up!” Jess screams, pushing him up off her lap, but his head is swirling from the lack of oxygen as he wheezes, his chest hollow. Valara runs past them down the ramp, a blur.

“Wait! Come back!” Jess yells, desperate. Her voice growing louder to Poe as he quickly begins to regain his composure, the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He takes a gasping inhale and tries to lift himself up. Jess notices, giving him a large heave as she pulls herself up. She leans over to Poe, her hands under his armpits, staring directly into his one good eye. “I need you to run. For your fucking life.”

Poe nods, steeling himself for her to pull him to his feet. In one fluid move, Jess lifts Poe up, taking most of his weight as his feet clatter beneath him, trying to find solid ground. He plants his feet, his confidence growing with every passing second. She shifts his body weight to her right side, pulling his left arm around her shoulder. Poe screams out as his broken left wrist gives out, but she ignores his reaction as they’ve already begun descending the ramp.

Poe shifts his concentration to his feet, just his feet. _Just keep your legs moving, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop…_

“Come on Poe! You can do this!”

_Just keep moving, just don’t stop moving. Don’t stop, don’t st—_

The first blast hits about a quarter of a mile away, the shrieking sound of blaster fire from above howling through the sky. Jess cranes her neck behind, her surprised expression illuminated by red light. Poe gasps and looks forward, their new ship hums to life, hidden among an outcropping of trees. It feels like it’s lightyears away from them, the pit of despair taking shape again in his stomach. Jess gives Poe a small shove as she continues forward. Poe’s feet begin to drag as his attention wanes.

The second blast hits their stolen transport ship. The impact reverberates the grassy plain, the trees beginning to shake. The acrid smell of burning durasteel floods their noses.

“Get in here! Get over here!”

“Poe, please! You need to run!”

Poe’s head sags backward over his shoulders as he sees the TIE fighters approaching in the smoke rings lefts behind. He is not going back.

With the last of his strength, he pushes his wavering legs up and begins sprinting with Jess. The ship gets closer and closer, the light from within growing brighter. It’s within reach now, it’s almost there…

The third blast hits where Jess and Poe had stood mere seconds earlier.

The ground gives way, chunks of dirt and grass flying in every direction. One of the projectiles hits Jess in the back of the knees, as she buckles beneath it. Poe pitches forward with her. He reaches his right arm forward, landing on the edge of the ship’s cargo bay. He sees Jess scrambling back to her feet in his peripheral vision. He feels his body shifting forward by his arms, the pain signals muted as his mind struggles to comprehend the influx of signals. His chest scrapes against the metal floor, but his feet are no longer dangling off the edge. He’s on board. They all are.

“Start it up! Get the shields up!” he hears Jess yelling as she slams her hand on the button near the door, the ship rumbling to life as the door closes behind him.

The small ship shudders as another blaster fire hits near them, the walls rattling. But then a groan and a lurch and they begin to take off.

“Did you install your cloaking device?”

“Yes but we have to reach altitude before it kicks in, we just have to get past these fighters!. We can lose them in hyperspace!”

Poe feels the familiar sensation of his body leaving the ground, it’s almost an elation. He feels like he could just float away, if only for a moment.

The feeling doesn’t last as blaster fire hits their ship. They pitch sharply to the right, but quickly level back out.

“Can we shoot back?”

“It’s best we focus of just getting to hypers—”

The ship is hit again. Poe can hear alarms blaring a short distance away from the cockpit. Red light floods the cargo hold as he curls up into himself to hold steady.

“Now! Cloaking is active! Do it now!”

“We can hit hyperspace in twenty seconds, it’s just charging!”

“Cloaking is active!”

“Ten seconds!”

Another blaster hit.

“Did it work?”

“Five seconds!”

“We’re going to make i—”

“NOW!”

The ship jerks, suspended for a brief moment, and then, blissful nothingness. The gentle hum of space flying past them at immeasurable speeds, it’s comforting. It’s conformation.

They’re safe. For now.

“Poe!” Jess shouts, running toward his crumpled form at full speed. She carefully rolls him over onto his back, her smile growing, tears welling, “Poe we did it!” Her face stained with dirt and smoke, her hair disheveled. Poe doesn’t even want to know how awful he looks.

“Are we safe?” Poe asks weakly, trying to suppress his full optimism, for fear that he’d be proven wrong. Fear that he’d just wake up back in his cell, this all just another escapist dream. Fear that he’d never really get to go home.

“Yes, Poe, you’re safe.”

He chokes on a sob, his cheeks flushing red, “Th—thank you.”

“I said that we didn’t forget you Poe,” Jess says, openly crying herself now too, “After that, that…whatever you’d call it, message they had you send to us, we knew we had to do something. General Organa wanted to put together a squadron right away to come after you, but she knew that wouldn’t work. Believe me, you’d have had me and Snap and Finn out in the sky in a heartbeat.”

Poe’s heart nearly stops. _Finn._

“F—finn? He’s o—ok? He would ha—”

Jess smiles slyly, “Finn was the one General Organa had to convince _not_ to immediately come after you.”

Poe inhales sharply, his entire world spinning, his happiness tinged with melancholy and guilt that he’d been putting Finn through this too. But that Finn wanted to come after him, well, it made him happier than he’s been since they were reunited the last time.

“Anyway,” Jess continues, “We decided that we needed more inside agents. Valara has been in with them for nearly a year now. I volunteered. A lot of people did, Poe. I got here on this planet about two standard weeks ago.”

“T—two weeks?” Poe asks, “How long have I been g—gone?”

Jess face falls slightly, “Almost fifty days, Poe. We were all beginning to think that you…” she closes her eyes, lips pursed, shaking her head, “But we knew you were strong enough. We just didn’t know _where_ you were. We’re lucky that the First Order was desperate for recruits. They bought our backstories and let us join. We were in training on that planet when…” she trails off.

The silence hangs heavy as Jess finds her words, the memories raw in her mind.

“When they brought you out. We had no idea you were there. They made us watch, Poe. All of us. We had to watch what they did to you, all day, they just _beat_ you. Over, and over again. When you would pass out, they’d revive you just to keep it going,” Jess’s expression hardened, her anger evident, “ They were all _cheering._ It was…so awful, Poe. I decided right then that we had to do something. I’d been informed we had a double agent at this facility. I located Valara last night and we made up our minds.”

_Last night. It was just last night._

“The General doesn’t even know we are coming,” Jess releases her knitted brow, “She’s going to be so surprised. Or angry. I don’t know, but Poe we couldn’t leave you there. Not after what we saw. It would have only escalated from there. That General Hux is the biggest demagogue; he had that crowd wanting blood.”

Poe winces at his name, the painful memories of only the night before still an open wound in his mind and his body.

“I’m sorry, Poe. Stars, I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. I shouldn’t have said all that.”

“I—it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Ever the brave one,” Jess says, gently, running her fingers through Poe’s hair. He relaxes at her touch, his broken body giving in, finally to surrender. His limbs feel heavy, his mind quieting down from the excitement before, tempted to give in to the call of sleep. No longer at constant attention or on the defensive, Poe finally feels…safe.

“Jess! I need you to come in here and hail the Resistance! I don’t know their current transmission code.”

Jess stands up, Poe’s weary mind barely registers her movement until she kneels down beside him and whispers into his ear, “Poe, we’re going home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's time to do some healing, but we've got a long road ahead.
> 
> Thanks a million for sticking along with this ride as when I started I NEVER thought I'd be here, what, three-ish months and 45,000 (wow) words (and counting) later. <3
> 
> Chapter title from [Awful Sound (Oh Eurydice)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9bIfHnmu7dA) by Arcade Fire


	23. and i don't, i don't know who to believe, i'll get back to you someday soon you will see

**_Forty-four days earlier:_ **

_The light._

_It’s there. It’s so bright. So cold before, so cold. But now warm. Full of warmth. Warm and safe._

_Safe? Why use the word safe? What had happened before to make it unsa—_

Finn wakes up.

A heaving breath, and everyone comes running.

**_Two weeks later:_ **

Finn is making progress. After the first physical therapy session left him, and his trainer, in tears, he’s able to walk around the base with some pain, albeit quite slowly. It’s frustrating to him to know that these simple tasks which should be easy are now seen as victories. It’s a bit patronizing, but he’s trying to find a way to be thankful. These people took him in, even though they absolutely didn’t have to, and they’re still caring for him even though he thinks he’s more of a burden than a help at this point.

He reminds himself to ask Jess later about maybe taking a shift or two in the comms center, just to do more than walk laps and sleep.

Not that he’s doing very well at the latter.

**_Three days later:_ **

Jess said she’d look into it.

In the meantime, her and Snap came by with a gift. Not to keep, just to borrow.

BB-8.

The droid that everyone in the galaxy wanted to get their hands on not too long ago. Despite a rough first encounter, Finn had grown to appreciate the droid. He noticed that BB-8 had definitely taken on a few of his master’s traits. Stubbornness being one, refusal to follow orders, snarkiness.

Finn finds himself laughing after he asks BB-8 to grab him a snack from the mess hall when he wasn’t feeling strong enough to get up. Instead, BB-8 just repeatedly slams into the edge of the bed chirping condescendingly, until Finn just gives up and gets out of bed, the droid following closely on his heels.

_That’s something Poe would’ve done,_ Finn thinks to himself, amused.

The moment of happiness faded when he remembers how long Poe had been gone. When Finn woke up and began to fully understand what all happened, he’d asked where Poe was, thinking at first that he had perished at Starkiller. To say he was relieved is a massive understatement when they told him he was just out on a small mission.

But how long had it been now? Three weeks? Maybe a little longer?

Finn tries to remember how General Organa had framed it for him. Had she said a “small mission?” Was she trying to downplay what he was doing so Finn wouldn’t worry? Or had something really gone wrong and they haven’t the heart to tell him?

Finn shakes his head, wishing the tumultuous tides of thought would cascade out of his head, but he’s been plagued with it for so long now, he knows better.

He hears BB-8 beeping behind him, but he doesn’t know what the little droid is saying. Maybe he’ll learn how to speak droid with his lengthy downtime. Could come in handy.

He barely notices when they’ve arrived into the expansive cafeteria, or perhaps it just feels so big because nobody is in there. Finn doesn’t know what time it is; he looks out a small window near the other end of the room and no light comes in. It must be the middle of the night.

Finn hobbles over to a table against the wall where a few water pouches sit, along with a basket of various colored fruits. Finn never ate anything colorful before this, the First Order wasn’t much of a culinary hub. It was all about efficiency. Eat enough to get you through your physical labor for the day. Finn had never tasted so many flavors as he had in the last few weeks alone.

He grabs a spherical purple fruit with tiny pink speckles covering the leathery outside. He grabs another, for when he’s hungry and BB-8 can’t convince him to get up. He takes a water pouch too and heads back down the hallway.

He should try to sleep, but it seems helpless at this point.

He can’t stop reliving the night on Starkiller. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees Kylo Ren’s lightsaber.

Finn squeezes his eyes shut, hoping to push out the wave of pain and panic hitting him right now, but it’s not helping. He stops in his tracks and leans against the wall, trying to center himself. _Breathe. Just breathe like they taught you. It’s going to keep happening if you can’t get yourself together, get it together._

When Finn opens his eyes, he realizes that he’s dropped all of his goods. He goes to bend over to pick them up, but a shooting pain runs up his healing spine with the sudden movement. He cries out, his voice echoing against the walls.

Biting his lip, he manages to pull himself upright, his right hand stabilizing himself against the wall. He hopes he didn’t wake anyone. He doesn’t want to see anybody else with that look of _worry_ in their eyes. It looked more like pity to him sometimes.

A low mournful beeping noise from behind. BB-8 rolls up next to Finn, his extendable claw hand holding his fruit and water in a small bowl he must have gone all the way back to get.

Finn smiles, tears springing to his eyes at the gesture, and the two move silently back down the hall to Finn’s room.

**_The next day:_ **

“Hey get up, I managed to convince the general that she should let you work in the comms center for a day or two a week. I told her it would ‘lift your spirits’ and ‘teach you things.’ I dunno what I even all said, but she said yes. Well mostly. She wants to meet with you personally.”

“Jess, this is a lot of information for me just waking up.”

She laughs, sliding out the door, “She wants to see you in an hour.”

“Thanks, Jess. Really.”

“Don’t mention it!” her voice trails off as she walks down the hallway leaving Finn’s door wide open.

Finn slowly gets out of bed, his body feeling heavy in lack of sleep. He closes the door and sits back down on the bed, trying to avoid the temptation of sliding back under the blankets and dozing back off. He needs to do this. He wants to get involved, if only to keep his mind busy.

BB-8 is still in sleep mode in the corner. “It’s too early even for you, huh pal,” Finn says quietly, chuckling to himself as he gets dressed. It’s been getting easier, but the full body movements required can be quite taxing. He hurries as fast as he can as he wants to grab a bite before he sees the general. His stomach rumbles as he never even ate his fruit last night after the excursion.

General Organa’s office is nothing too special, but she eschews the title as something meaning fancier things. She’s always willing to step in and help herself and Finn respects that. He’s never really had respect for a superior before, but that might be because he had no choice before that. The First Order rules through fear, and from what Finn has seen, the Resistance runs on the combined effort and mutual respect of everyone working together.

“Finn, come in,” she says, and Finn obliges.

“Hello General Organa, Jess said you wanted to see me.”

“Jess said you wanted to help. I just need to know if that’s really what you think is best for you right now.”

“I do. I need to do something. I’m getting better, physically, but I’m just languishing otherwise. My mind wanders and it’s never to a good place.”

“I understand that.”

“I just want to be helpful instead of a burden.”

She gets up from her chair, “Oh Finn, you’re not a burden. Don’t think that, ever. You’ve done so much for us. We don’t forget our own.”

“Thank you General,” Finn says, looking down, trying to reign in his emotions which never really subsided from last night. He takes in a deep breath, “I want to do what I can that isn’t too physically taxing. Jess and Snap had mentioned the comms center a few times and I think I could do that.”

“I agree,” she says, sitting back down, “There is a little bit of training involved, but we can get someone to do that for you. Maybe even Jess herself, if she’s so inclined. I can ge—”

A small, urgent beep sounds. General Organa looks down at her belt, pulling out a small datapad. She opens it to the face of someone Finn doesn’t recognize. He begins speaking, “General Organa, can you come to comms? There is a call for you. Intercept Jessika Pava if you can, she seems to think physically coming to get you is more convenient than just calling you.”

“Yes, I will be right there,” she closes the datapad and turns to Finn, “I’m sorry but I must take this. If you just stay right here, I’ll be right back to finalize things with you.”

“Oh that’s fine,” Finn nods, moving out of the way of the door to let her pass by.

“Sit down if you’d like, I hope this won’t be too long.”

Finn does so, slowly, bracing himself against the arms of the chair to lower himself down. It’s an exhausting venture to do just simple things like this and it’s beginning to get frustrating. Nevertheless the fact that he gets to be useful is a good thing, he’s excited to really feel like a full-fledged member of the Resistance.

It seems like she was only gone a few minutes when she came back into the room.

“Well that was a quick call…” Finn begins to say but she shushes him quickly.

“Finn, come follow me.”

Finn gets up, ignoring the pain shooting up his spine again. Maybe he was to begin training earlier than he expected.

The two walk briskly to the comms center, thankfully not too far away. When they open the door, it’s almost as if time has ground to a halt.

In the center of the room is an open holocall, the blue light emanating throughout the room. Finn feels as if someone has knocked all the air out his lungs as he stares at the visage floating in front of him.

It’s Poe.

Finn feels his heart swelling, his lips growing into a huge smile.

“Finn?” he hears Poe ask, but everything sounds hollow to him. Poe’s smiling face is finally in front of him. His closest friend, the only person he had ever found himself caring about is right he—

Something’s wrong.

“Finn.”

Finn sees Poe’s face drop. And that’s when he notices, even in the blue lighting of the call, the contrast in Poe’s face. He looks bruised, and beaten. Finn’s brow furrows, as a cold chill comes over his body, his legs suddenly feeling weak. Something’s wrong. Something is very wrong.

“Finn, I’m not safe! The First Order has me, send help! Finn I need—” Poe cries out, his eyes wild right before the call cuts to black.

The room erupts in chaos, but Finn cannot hear it.

**_Five days later:_ **

It should make Finn happy that everyone instantly wanted to help. People were volunteering to jump in X-wings and take down the First Order single-handedly to save Poe. But after all the bravado settled down, the reality set in. They had no idea _where_ Poe was and just aimlessly attacking would do nothing. Rather it’s probably what the first Order wanted. They wanted a rash response. It’s most likely best that they stay put and stay rational.

But that left Poe in the hands of the First Order and that he could not accept.

Finn sits motionless against the wall, his legs curled beneath him. BB-8 hasn’t woken up from his sleep mode in two days, he didn’t know a droid could sink into sadness too. No longer are his dreams plagued with his own perils, rather he is imagining what was happening to Poe. Finn knows the First Order would not take kindly to Poe tipping them off, he shudders to think about what he is suffering through.

Even worse is the fact that Poe probably thinks they aren’t coming for him. That desperation, feeling trapped. Finn was able to free him from that last time and he can’t stand this idleness.

Finn suddenly springs out of his seated position, his frayed nerves crying out in protest, but he can’t feel it. He screams. It feels good. He screams louder. He punches the bed. The mattress absorbing the blow. Not hard enough. He punches the wall, his knuckles cracking open. He punches it again, staining the wall red. Again. Again.

Finn freezes. He can feel his heated skin and the tears cooling it down. His hand hurts but he savors the pain, he needs it right now. He breathes erratically as the sobs come uncontrollably now.

A small tug at his pant leg. BB-8 is awake. He moves back and forth, humming, nuzzling against Finn’s leg. Finn kneels down. He pats BB-8 on the head. He forlornly beeps as he lowers his round head down. Finn lets his feet slide out from underneath him, and he hugs BB-8. He holds the little droid so close to his heart, he could swear that BB-8 had a heartbeat too.

Finn’s tears drip gently off BB-8’s curves and into a small puddle on the floor.

**_One week later:_ **

There’s finally been some action. It’s small, but it gives Finn a bit of comfort. They’ve been tracing patterns of First Order ships and they are beginning to think that there’s been a bit of attention paid to training facilities. Could be nothing, but General Organa asked for people to volunteer as double agents and sign up to train for the First Order. They seem desperate for recruits, so they’re hoping to gather intel from the inside.

In all, over two dozen people volunteered, including Jess. Before she left, she found Finn and told him she’d do anything to bring Poe home. He told her to stay safe. She couldn’t make any promises.

Finn is keeping himself as busy as possible. He trained for the comms center and has been helping to intercept and decode transmissions. At night, he’s been teaching himself droidspeak. BB-8 seems to be very patient with him as he attempts to learn what he is saying. He wants to be able to show off his new skills if Poe gets back.

_If? Don’t you mean when?_

_Don’t get cocky._

BB-8 notices that Finn has drifted off again. He nudges him. Finn, startled, shakes his head, forcing a smile, “Sorry BB-8, just thinking again.”

[YOU THINK A LOT]

“Hey I understood that! And I know. I can’t help it. It’s the only thing I’ve been good at. It’s what got me in trouble with the First Order. They don’t like you thinking for yourself.”

[I’M SORRY]

“It’s not your fault,” he says quietly. Wanting to shake the growing dread threatening to take over, he pushes himself to his feet. “Want to get a snack with me? I’m kinda hungry again.”

[YES I WOULD LIKE THAT]

“I don’t know why you hang out with me, BB-8. But I’m glad you do,” Finn says, heading towards the door.

[A FRIEND OF POE’S IS A FRIEND OF MINE]

Finn blinks back tears as the two head down the hallway.

**_Two weeks later, the present:_ **

Finn is used to the noise that comes from his small room being near the medical wing. He insisted on getting his own space but _they_ insisted he remain close by to monitor his progress. It's been over six standard weeks since he woke up; he'd been meaning to ask to move but he felt safe in this space and that was a rare feeling. Part of it may have come from the low, gentle hum of BB-8 as a constant in the corner when he sleeps. More than once he's considered not giving him back if....when...Poe gets back. 

Finn hears the running of footsteps down the hallway and it wakes him from his light sleep. Slightly annoyed, as he's been trying to fall asleep for hours, he rolls over onto his side, pulling his blanket higher over his shoulders.

But the noise doesn't settle down like it should, it gets more frantic, more footsteps pounding the floors. The hushed tones suddenly turning into shouting. 

Finn kicks the blankets off his legs, slipping on his shoes as his toes tingle against the cool air of his room. BB-8 is awake too. Even his energy feels different, as if he's questioning the meaning of this too. BB-8 rolls to the door, making contact with it multiple times in a futile attempt to get out.

"Hold on a sec," Finn grunts as he fumbles around for his jacket, "it's probably nothing. Calm down."

But the little droid keeps running against the door, as if he's forgotten his arsenal of tools to open the door himself. Finn sighs, unable to find his jacket in the pile of clothes at the foot of his bed. He leans forward, unlocking the door and BB-8 speeds out. 

_Why is he acting so strangely?_ Finn wonders. _It's almost like the way he acted when....no, no it can't be...._

Finn peeks his head out the door, turning to his right he sees a few of the medical staff rounding the corner, with BB-8 following them. Finn forgoes his jacket in sake of his curiosity. He trails them down the byzantine hallways, his heart beginning to race, and not because of the physical exertion. Something was definitely happening.

Eventually he finds himself standing in the hangar near the small makeshift runway outside. He can hear the wind and rain whipping the side of the building. These storms were normal on this tropical planet they had moved their operations to after Starkiller as their previous position had been compromised. Finn stands near the end of the hangar, contemplating whether or not to go outside and really wishing he’d taken the time to grab his jacket.

His thoughts are quickly interrupted by two more medical techs rushing past him. The speed in which they flew by almost knocked Finn off balance. The wind howls as they exit the hangar through the small door on the other end. Bracing himself for the cold, he runs behind them, barely keeping pace. They slip out of the door right as Finn reaches it, but a low rumble under his feet startles him. The large hangar door meant for the starships begins to roll up and the artificial light streams in, temporarily blinding Finn.

After a moment to compose himself, he exits out the door into the tempest. The rain pelts his uncovered head and soaks his shirt right to his skin in an instant. The cold wind is like a slap in the face, but Finn is too busy absorbing the scene. The tall overhead lights stream blue tinged light through the night sky onto the crudely paved runway. He can smell ship exhaust fill the air and hear the distant drone of engines powering down. He looks to his left and sees the ship in question. Looks like an old freighter. He thinks it’s one of theirs. He sure hopes it is. Its landing was rough, the ship sits askew on the runway, its aft end facing the crowd of people gathered nearby.

Finn keeps walking toward the ship, not knowing why he felt compelled to keep moving. It could be a trap for all they know and here he was, walking right into it.

As Finn gets closer, the cacophony of voices grows louder. Finn squints his eyes, still adjusting to the bright light and blinded by the storm raging on above them. The ramp to the freighter slowly opens, and he hears a woman’s voice cry out. He can’t make out exactly what she’s saying but it seems urgent. A hovercart with a stretcher on it ascends the ramp before it’s even fully down and a few others run inside with the woman.

Finn is only a few yards away now; he wants to ask what is going on but he knows he shouldn’t interrupt them. He can start to see faces in the crowd now and he recognizes a few of the people who helped treat him, and BB-8, and near the back is…General Organa? Her face stern, her brow knitted. She looks over and sees Finn running toward them. She springs up, her face softening slightly.

“Finn, I didn’t…I mean…I should have…” she begins to say, her face still rapt with concern.

“What’s going on?” Finn finally asks, but commotion on the ship takes both of their attention away.

Through the heavy rain, Finn can see the cart descending the ramp, surrounded again by four or five of the medical staff tending to the person lying prone on the cart, unmoving. Finn can hear his heartbeat in his ears as he runs to get closer. Even in the cold, he can feel himself sweating, his skin growing hot to the touch.

And then he sees: the tuft of dark hair plastered by the rain to the man’s bruised and broken skin. One of his eyes is completely swollen shut, a red and purple mess but it’s completely and unmistakably him. Poe.

Finn feels as if all the breath has been squeezed from his lungs, his body going completely numb, his blood running ice cold, his limbs heavy as if he could sink through the ground all the way to the other side of the planet.

“Poe!” Finn screams, his voice lost in the howling squall around them.

He looks from Poe’s unconscious body being whisked away from them up to the ship where he sees the woman collapsed against the side of the freighter. Jess. She looks out to the chaos with unseeing eyes, her being completely spent.

“Poe! Is he ok?! Poe!” Finn wails.

He doesn’t remember when he started running, nor does he remember when he was stopped, held back by a group of bodies. Finn fights and squirms, his voice ragged and desperate, unknowing of what is happening yet acutely aware of everything.

“Poe! No, let me go! I need to see him!” Finn shouts, his bellows falling on deaf ears, his whole world spinning out of control. He pushes against the people forming a barrier in front of him. His breathing is shallow, taking in too much air with each breath; his head feels light, as if he could faint at any moment but he needs to keep moving forward.

“Finn!” he hears a clear voice from behind him. And he stops, turning around to see General Organa approaching him. Her eyes, red and puffy, she puts a hand on his shoulder. “Go!” she orders to the crowd behind him, “Go do your job.”

“G—general, I—I need to see him. Is he—he dead? General please, is P—poe o—ok?” Finn pants, his chest heaving.

She looks Finn directly in the eye, “He’s alive, but he’s…been through a lot. We will find out here soon.”

Finn gulps in a huge breath, in partial relief. He bends over, hands on his thighs, trying to ground himself. General Organa still has her hand on his shoulder. “Come on Finn, let’s get inside.”

He straightens up, his head still swimming. He nods and she leads him back down the runway to the hangar. He can hear the frantic footsteps clodding against the puddles as the whole medical staff follows back inside. Once inside, Finn leans forward as if to go taking off after them, but the general’s grip is strong.

“Finn, listen to me. You need to let them do their job.”

“But I need to see him, I need to…”

“And you will,” General Organa says, her voice tired and weary, but reassuring, “Poe is in bad shape, Finn. He needs them right now and they need to be able to do what they need to do to help him, understand?”

Finn is silent for a moment, then quietly, “I understand.”

“Good, now let’s get inside,” she turns over her shoulder, “Pava, I need to see you for a debriefing.”

Finn looks over to his left and sees a soaking wet Jess, her eyes distant, yet wild, “Yes General,” she says as General Organa claps Finn on the shoulder and takes off hurriedly.

“Jess,” Finn mutters, after the general is out of earshot, “what happened?”

She snaps out of her stupor for a moment, taking in Finn’s visage, her eyes mournful, “I told you I’d get him back but…”

Finn waits for a moment, but she trails off into oblivion again, “But what?” he prods.

Her face crumples, her voice small, “I didn’t think it would be this bad.”

Finn inhales sharply, the lump in his throat growing, “J—Jess I…”

“I have to go see the general,” she says, dazedly pivoting towards the entrance, before moving methodically to the door.

Finn remains frozen in place. His body immobile, but his mind racing. He can’t process anything, it has to be a dream. Or a nightmare? A bit of both.

He doesn’t know how much time passes as he stands there, the storm outside continuing to echo his inner turmoil. Then he decides against his better judgment that he has to go see Poe. He has to. He needs to see his face again to know that it’s real.

Finn takes off running down the hangar, his footsteps a hollow ringing in his ears.

_I’m coming for you, Poe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've toyed with the thought of doing a Finn POV chapter for a very long time here now and I think this is the best moment to include it as their stories meet and our usual POV will be slightly out of commission for awhile. Hope you like it, a little change of pace. It came pretty easily to write and I'm excited and intimidated to keep on with the next wave of plot ahhhh.
> 
> Which is probably a good time to mention again that I, myself, will be out of commission for about two weeks (maybe less) for prior commitments for the holiday season. I will be reading your comments and churning away with the plot in my head, but enjoy this little morsel for now. Sorry to always leave on a cliffhanger of sorts, my bad, but I love you all and thank you for keeping up with this with me. <3
> 
> Chapter title from [Helplessness Blues](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KyP0DACgdgc) by Fleet Foxes.
> 
> p.s. I did the math here, where Jess said he'd been gone 50 days, this should add up to 50!


	24. your love and my due diligence: the only thing worth fighting for

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's for you, Carrie
> 
> tw: description of past torture, resulting injuries

The walls rush by in an imperceptible blur as Finn charges down the hallways he ran down just minutes earlier. His clothes hang wet and heavy as they cling to his skin, cold with the rush of air as he makes his way forward.

It’s a blind charge forward with a singular focus: to get to Poe.

It was the briefest of glimpses earlier, despite looking near unrecognizable, it was him. He is back home, but…is he going to even make it?

_“I didn’t think it was going to be this bad.”_

Jess’ words ring hollow in Finn’s ears as he tries to block out any notion of Poe not surviving…whatever happened to him. He has to make it. He _will_ make it.

Finn’s lungs feel heavy in his chest as he keeps pressing forward. A loud cacophony of voices begin to emerge from the silence; he keeps going.

And then he grinds to a halt, his wet shoes squealing against the floor. He is blocked out by what seems to him like the entire Resistance base crowding the area.

“I need to get through!” Finn yells, but he’s drowned out by the noise.

Gasping, he pushes his way through the outliers with more force than he intended. A few angry yelps come but Finn can’t hear it, he doesn’t care.

“Let me through!” he cries out, no longer worried about sounding desperate, because he knows he is. His body collides with the amorphous mass of people who all awoke from their slumber to see what was going on. Word travels fast.

“Please!” Finn screams, his voice hoarse, his head pounding.

“Let him through!”

Finn stops pushing for a moment, looking up. Snap Wexley stands just in front of him, hand outstretched. For a moment, Finn can’t comprehend what is happening, his mind sluggish. He grabs Snap’s hand regardless and feels himself being pulled through the crowd. Snap’s grip and pull is strong and Finn gives into it completely.

Once through the crowd, Snap brings Finn around the corner where there’s a small opening and the two can breathe and hear each other.

“They’re not letting anyone in right now,” Snap says, his eyes warm but worried.

“I need to go…I need to see him…I saw him out there and I—I…” Finn trails off, wincing at the brief memory of Poe’s battered face being whisked past him just moments ago.

Snap puts his hand on Finn’s shoulder, “I know. They need to do their job in there though. To help him. He’ll be…in good hands.”

Finn knows that Snap even can’t say definitively that Poe is going to be alright. His hesitance is telling. Did Snap see Poe too? Is it worse than Finn originally thought? Finn fights back tears as he begins to fully take in everything that’s happened. He sways on his feet, but catches himself.

“I’m—I just need to…” Finn whispers, his voice quivering, before he notices that the entire hallway has gone silent. Finn looks up, his heart racing, unsure of what is transpiring.

“I know that you’re all wondering what is going on,” comes the booming, authoritative voice of General Organa, “yes we have extracted Commander Dameron, and no, we do not know what his condition is.”

A murmur of voices breaks out as she pauses but Finn isn’t even breathing.

The crowd quiets down as the general speaks again, “I know you’re all concerned but the best thing you can do now is to go back to your rooms. Or your post, _if_ you’ve decided to abandon it for the time being, I’ll forgive it. The medical staff needs their space to give Commander Dameron the treatment he needs. I will update you as we know more but for now I need you all to disperse.”

Nobody hesitates to disobey the orders from General Organa, and in a few brief seconds, the whole crowd has left. Except Finn and Snap.

Finn sees General Organa standing with Jess Pava across the hall near the door, both stoic, both silent. Finn waits to be reprimanded for not leaving, but it never comes. Rather the two women walk over to them, Jess wrapping Snap in a hug.

“Pava, I thought I’d gotten rid of you for awhile,” Snap teases.

Jess laughs, the sound a welcome echo, “I just missed you _so much_ I had to come back.”

They laugh as they leave each other’s arms. Jess turns to Finn, who is just surprised he hasn’t passed out yet.

“Finn, I…” Jess begins, her smile fading. She leans closer, unsure of her place for a moment but decides to hug Finn as well. Finn falls into her, the gesture of comfort almost too much for him as he chokes back a sob, his legs tingling, going numb. She squeezes him tighter, her still damp hair falling down his back.

“He’s going to be ok,” she says, her voice thick with emotion.

Finn knows that she’s just saying that to be nice, but he’ll take what he can get. He wants to ask her to tell him everything, every detail, convince him that Poe is going to be just fine, but he barely manages a thank you.

“I had to Finn, I had to…if you’d have seen what I saw…if you…” she recoils from her own memory.

“Maybe for another time,” comes General Organa’s dulcet tone from the side, “Pava needs to rest, it’s been a long day.”

“I’m fine,” Jess replies, too quickly, gently letting go of Finn. “He wants to know, don’t you?”

Finn is taken aback for a moment being addressed directly, and then he’s forced to consider: does he really want to know what happened to Poe? Or at least right now? He wants….needs to know, but can he handle it among everything that’s transpired in one night alone?

“Wha—yes. I do,” Finn replies, deciding as his mouth was moving.

General Organa meets Finn’s gaze; he can feel her reading him. He’s never seen her this worn down before, yet somehow she remains composed. He’s always been in awe of that quality in her. “That’s your choice to make, Finn. If so, why don’t you two go back to your room then and talk?”

“But I need to be here, in case…” Finn starts, but General Organa stops him with the tiniest hand movement.

“There’s nothing more any of us can do for right now. I will find you if anything changes. Promise.”

Finn knows she means it. He nods his agreement, and starts down the hallway with Jess.

“That means you too, Wexley. What I said about abandoning your post, I meant it. But don’t push it.”

Snap’s eyes widen, as he scurries off,  “Yes, General.”

Finn looks over to see General Organa with the tiniest hint of a smile and for the first time all night, he feels like everything just might be alright.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Finn and Jess wordlessly make their way back to his room, the hallways feeling stretched out, eternally long. In the silence between them, Finn’s mind churns with apprehension. He’d told them he wanted to hear what Jess had to say but now he can’t tell if he wants to. His stomach weighted down with dread as he opens the door to his room. His blanket is tossed to the side from when he hurriedly left, what, barely an hour ago. How long had it been since BB-8 had rolled out the door? Where was BB-8, for that matter?

Finn looks around the room, realizing he has nowhere for Jess to sit in his cramped little space. She must be able to read his thinking as she leans against the door frame, shutting the door quietly.

“I can stand, it’s fine.”

“No, I mean if you want to sit down, I can st—”

“You’re going to want to sit down.”

Jess’ tone strikes a chord of fear in Finn’s heart, her eyes hardened. Finn slowly lowers himself onto his unmade bed, watching Jess all the while, her gaze fixated on the tiles of the floor.

“Jess, if you don’t want to talk about it, I don’t…”

“I have to,” she says, her voice small, “I can’t keep it all in. I mean I told the General, but that’s different. I just…need a moment.”

Finn nods, his hands trembling in his lap. He locks them together to try to steady himself, his heart racing at hyperspeed.

Jess inhales sharply, and begins speaking, “They took us in so easily. They’re desperate for recruits, we knew that. We had these elaborate ruses, new identities, and they were barely glossed over. It’s like they just wanted any able body to hold a blaster as long as it was for their cause.

“Training wasn’t anything too horrible, at least not for me. The initial fear of getting discovered wore off when I saw that everyone else around me seemed equally terrified. It was almost like a bonding experience. I mean, I don’t know how it ever was for you?”

“I understand the fear,” Finn says darkly.

“We’d been gone for, what, two weeks? It was…”Jess pauses, her face wrinkled in thought, “Last night. It was just…last night.

“I don’t even remember what they told us was happening, it all was going by so quickly,” Jess continues, “We all had to gather outside in some arena-type place. It was a big grassy field with some sort of platform on one end. The energy was weird. Mostly confusion among most but some people seemed thrilled to be there. I was half-convinced they were about to send us out into battle, untrained. All I could think of was what I would do if I was forced into that situation that I barely noticed when someone was talking to us.

“After their short speech, they started playing this holo-message. It was this pre-produced propaganda message about Starkiller. And, stars, Finn, it was so convincing to anyone easily swayed. It made the First Order look like heroic victims and made us look terrible. My face was in it Finn! I don’t know how! I was so afraid someone might recognize me as I’d shown my face a few times around the base. I thought for sure we were being outed.

“And then, it changed. The film was over and we were watching some feed. It was Poe. And Kylo Ren. He was prodding Poe into saying these things that made him look so bad to this crowd. Poe was unapologetic about Starkiller, you know how he is. Stubborn to a fault, not wanting to let Ren get to him, but he had no idea that everyone was watching him.

“Now I was just thrilled to see that Poe was alive. Even in the back of the crowd with a terrible view, I could see that he was not in good shape. I thought he was systems away from us, until the door opened.”

Jess pauses, squeezing her eyes shut. Finn is completely numb; he wishes he didn’t have to hear this but he’s too far deep now, he’s too involved.

“Finn, when I saw…” Jess’ voice wavers, “It was awful. Two troopers were dragging him out to the platform and I swear, if Ren hadn’t been there, someone would have killed him. That crowd was so _angry_. I mean, Poe had basically just confessed to blowing up Starkiller and to everyone else, he was cocky about it.

“I wanted to run to him right there, I had to keep myself from screaming. They strung him up on these posts and th—they, uh…they…” Jess trails off, her shaking hand raising up to her mouth, tears beginning to flow freely. Finn remains tethered in place, he doesn’t think he could move or speak even if he wanted to.

Jess wipes away the tears running down her cheeks, clearing her throat, “They brought up this small group of people. Maybe about fifteen or so. They said these people were survivors of Starkiller, or knew someone who died there. Then they each got their time with him.”

Finn inhales, a small moan escaping his lips as he rocks back and forth.

Jess looks down at the floor, she can’t even make eye contact with Finn right now. “They were so cruel. I could barely watch, but even when I closed my eyes I could still hear him sc—screaming. After awhile, Poe would pass out and then they’d hit him with an electric shock to bring him back to so they could k—keep beating him.

“I told myself then and there that I was getting him out. Immediately.

“I knew there was a deeper operative within the ranks at the base and after they’d decided they’d had enough of Poe, and made us go back inside, I went to find her. Lieutenant Valara. We decided that we’d trip an alarm to distract the base while we made off with Poe, but it was all about timing and when we could grab him. We needed him to be alone, but out of his cell, as she didn’t have clearance for that. I was so worried that they’d take him away before that opportunity arose.

“Little did we know that our chance would come the next morning. I think th—they left him out there all night. But Valara heard that Ren had taken Poe out of his cell, just minutes ago and we sprang into action. She orchestrated an evacuation drill, and thankfully everyone begin to comply.

“It was chaos. But we managed to find Poe. The worst part is we couldn’t even tell him what was going on. He was so…afraid. He was afraid that Ren would find out he’d been moved and he’d get punished for it. Stars, everything happened so quickly, I just remember being in the hallway and being stopped by the red-haired general that had been in charge of the night before.”

“General Hux,” Finn says breathlessly.

“Yes, that was him,” Jess replies, “Poe was terrified of him. I—I just have no idea what they did to him, but…Finn, I…I don’t know how he…”

Jess’ strength falters as she sways against the door frame. Finn, his eyes filled with tears, his body shaking uncontrollably, reaches out to take her hand. She accepts it and sits on the bed next to Finn, gripping his knee to center herself.

“Anyway, um, we managed to get him off our tail,” she resumes speaking, forcing herself to just keep talking, “and we knew that our time was severely limited from the beginning and we’d already lost so much time. We just ran for the hangar where we saw a troop transport with its ramp down from the fake drill and made our decision right then. We made our way onto it, Valara running to the cockpit and I tried to keep Poe upright as he could barely walk, we’d been dragging him. We lifted the ramp and we were off.”

“Jess, I don’t know how you…” Finn begins, but Jess can’t hear him as she stares blankly ahead.

“I took off my helmet and for the first time I really got a look at him and…oh Finn…I….h—he was in such bad shape. His whole face was red and swollen and he looked so frail. Like I could break him with one wrong touch. When he saw me, I could see that spark in him light again. I think he thought we forgot him.”

“We didn’t,” Finn says, his voice barely a whisper.

“We had to ditch their ship. Thankfully I stashed the ship we all came in on two weeks ago. We got to it just as the First Order caught our tail. The ground was literally exploding around us, but Poe ran with me to our ship. He ran for his life and we made it into hyperspace just before we were completely overtaken. I don’t know how we did it but…we did.

“Everything was fine, he was fine. Right up until we finally were about to hail you guys, and then Poe just passed out. His eyes went blank and he was out. I…I think it was sheer exhaustion on his part, but I couldn’t wake him, which is why I had the medical team meet us. I mean I would have anyway for him, but I—I don’t know Finn. I think he’s going to be fine, but I also saw just a fraction of what they did to him.

“All I know is that if anyone is strong enough to make it through, it’s Poe. Cause he knows he’s got something worth fighting for.” Jess looks directly at Finn as she speaks.

And with that, all of the emotions Finn’s been trying to hold in for the past few weeks come flooding out in one fluid motion. Heaving sobs fill his chest, as he hardly registers Jess’ arms around him while he tries to take in everything she’s just told him.

But he knows she’s right. If anyone can make it through, it’s Poe, and that’s the thought that will keep Finn afloat.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jess fell asleep shortly after. Her emotions and physical exhaustion took over and as soon as she shut her eyes to rest them, she fell asleep. Finn gently laid her down in his bed, so he took up in the corner of the room where BB-8 would normally sit.

He sits there, his knees pulled to his chest. His body cries out for sleep too but his mind will do no such thing. The impulse to move becomes too much to bear. He gets up, slipping out the door, though he’s sure Jess could sleep through anything at this point.

Finn knows he should just start walking around to clear his mind, but he can’t ignore the pure compulsion to walk back to the medbay even through General Organa said that there’s nothing he can do, he can’t help but go anyway. Just to be closer to him. To know that Poe is just on the other side of the wall would be enough.

Finn rounds the corner to the entrance of the medbay and finds someone unexpected: General Organa herself.

He instantly tries to turn around so she doesn’t see him, but it’s too late. She looks up from her seated position, her gaze kind, not chastising.

“I’m surprised it took you this long.”

Finn is taken aback.

“You remind me a lot of Poe, I knew I couldn’t keep you away long.”

Finn hesitantly walks toward her, she motions to the chair next to her. Finn sits down, still not saying anything. Afraid if he opens his mouth, he’ll just start crying again.

“I couldn’t keep him away from here. While you were here, that is. I think he came by every night. Sometimes for a few moments. Sometimes I’d find him asleep by your bedside. I wondered if he felt he was trying to make amends for something. But now I realize it’s because he cares about you.”

That persistent lump in Finn’s throat grows ever present again.

“I sent him away thinking it was the former. That he was doing some unknown penance and he just needed to be distracted. It wasn’t supposed to be difficult, it seemed so harmless. I wanted to give him purpose again. I never thought…” she drifts off, shaking her head mournfully.

“General, it isn’t your fault. You…you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t,” she says darkly, “and I should have.”

Finn can hardly believe that General Organa is opening up to him like this, making herself seem vulnerable.

“I’ve known Poe for a very long time. I knew his parents. Especially his mother. We flew a mission together and I felt indebted to her. When she passed so young, I thought I’d never get to repay her. Then Poe came along right when we needed him.

“When he joined up, I told myself I’d keep him safe. For her. I know it’s dangerous making promises you can’t keep, but I did it anyway. He turned out to be just like her, headstrong and courageous to a fault. I knew a time would come where I couldn’t protect him any longer, I just never realized I wouldn’t be ready for it.

“Finn, I hope you understand that not going after Poe right away was merely a decision of the circumstances at the time. It’s eaten away at me ever since. Now I realize my mistake. If we could have gotten to him sooner…”

A voice from the door startles the two of them, “General Organa?”

She looks up, as does Finn. One of the doctors, an older woman who’s name Finn can’t recall at the moment, emerges from behind the door. Finn swears his heart skipped a beat. Why is she coming out here? Does she have news?

“Finn,” she says, acknowledging him.

“Dr. Kalonia,” General Organa says, standing up, “what is it?”

“I have my full debriefing for you, if you’d like to…”

“Is Poe alright?” Finn blurts out. He can’t hold it in any longer.

Instead of anger at his outburst, Dr. Kalonia’s expression takes on one of genuine concern, “He is stable for right now, but he’s in very rough shape. I’m hoping we can get him through the worst of it tonight.”

“Can I see him?” Finn asks, trying to mask the pleading in his voice but failing.

“I think it’s best if he’s allowed to rest alone for now.”

General Organa sees Finn’s face drop, “Is it possible for him to just go in for a moment?”

A pause, and Dr. Kalonia nods reluctantly, “Just for a moment.”

Finn’s heart soars as his legs move without prompting, getting up from his seat and rushing to the door. Dr. Kalonia puts her hand out for a moment, “Please be quiet and do not touch him as he’s in a very fragile state right now.” Finn nods, barely comprehending her words. As soon as she lowers her hand, Finn rushes past her and into the medbay. He finds his way down the short hallway that he’d grown familiar with.

As he makes his way past the main room he sees a few techs cleaning up. He gasps as he sees the pools of blood they are mopping up. He shudders, pushing the thought from his mind as he hurries down to what was once his room.

“It’s fine, let him through!” Finn hears the voice distantly call out behind him as he enters the room, his heart pounding out of his chest.

Finn feels as if all the air as been knocked out of his lungs.

Poe lies in front of him, almost peaceful, his skin drained of any color, highlighting the yellow and blue bruises flowering his face. His left eye is completely swollen shut, his hair matted and long. Almost every square inch of what Finn can see of his body is wrapped in bandages, a few already soaking through with blood. But his chest is rising and falling.

He’s alive.

Finn stands in the door, quivering. His feet unable to support him, his tongue thick in his mouth with words he wish he knew how to say. He knows he’s not supposed to, but his feet carry him to Poe’s side. He bends over, reaching out his hand to brush away a stray dark hair from Poe’s face.

“I’m here,” Finn murmurs, brushing his lips against the broken blood vessels of Poe’s forehead, his breath warm.

Finn slowly backs away, tears flowing down his cheeks. He turns to leave and sees General Organa in the doorway, her eyes watering.

“I’m s—sorry. I know I wasn’t supposed to…”

“He’s going to need you Finn,” she says instead, “Now more than ever. It’s not going to be easy. He’s going to need you to listen. He’s going to get angry while he heals. He’s going to feel lost. Let him. Let him know that he can express what he needs to, but be there to bring him back. You’ll be there for him and we will be there for both of you.

“Fate brought you together, Finn,” she says, her voice weary and laden with emotion, “but I think something stronger than that will keep you together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for hanging in there during this long break. The holidays are over and I can now settle back into a routine, I hope this wets your appetite for more! 
> 
> I'd like to take this quick moment though to express my real life grief in losing our dear general last week. Carrie was a true legend and a wonderful person who spread love and light everywhere that she went. I know her legacy will always live on and may we all carry a little bit of her spark with us as we continue on. All my love to Billie and Gary and their entire family as they deal with these trying times. <3
> 
> Chapter title from [The Only Thing Worth Fighting For](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mjg43nzSYck) by Lera Lynn


	25. when i took his hand in mine, for a little while everything was alright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: description of injuries (not tooooo graphic)

Finn stands immobile, unable to speak. General Organa’s words echo through his mind simultaneously uplifting and devastating him. He lowers his head to conceal the emotions contorting his face, expecting her to come to him and lead him out of the room as he knows it has already been too long. But that doesn’t come. After a few moments, Finn looks up and sees her gentle eyes turned red, her lower lip trembling slightly.

“We should let him rest, come along,” she says, her raspy voice taking on a hushed tone.

Finn nods imperceptively, his legs somehow moving him forward to the door. As soon as he reaches it, he feels her hand on his shoulder. The finality of leaving this room becomes too much; as if not being in the same room as Poe will make all of this not real. Finn whips around to see him one last time, his gaunt body laying beneath bandages and blankets. But it’s still him, and Finn needs to sear that image in his mind to keep him merely existing. Then before he can second guess himself, Finn turns on his heel and walks out the door, the tides of emotion within stirring uncontrollably. He wonders if the general wasn’t gently guiding him if he would just fall down.

Her hand still firmly upon his shoulder, General Organa leads Finn down the hallway he’d rushed down just moments earlier, though to him it feels like days.

As they pass by, Finn glances over and sees once again the smears of blood on the floor and this time it really hits him. He tries to stifle a sharp, high-pitched inhale but he cannot. General Organa reacts to it, slowing down, coming around to face him. Finn feels a rush of embarrassment as he doesn’t want her to see him as being weak, but his resolve is slipping.

“I’m fine,” he says, partially to convince himself.

General Organa wordlessly keeps moving forward, and Finn follows, thankful that she wasn’t trying to press him on the matter. He doesn’t even know what he’s supposed to do after this. Run back to his room? Jess is probably still passed out in his bed. Where is he supposed to go when he knows the only place he should be is by Poe’s side?

The two of them reach the exit when they are stopped by the sound of footsteps coming hurriedly toward them.

“General Organa, a moment!”

Finn turns around to see Dr. Kalonia nearly running to catch up to them.

“General, did you want my full report now or later?”

A pause. General Organa turns to Finn, who is standing raptly at attention suddenly.

“On Poe?” Finn asks, knowingly out of turn but he’s too caught up in the rush to care.

Dr. Kalonia looks startled briefly at Finn’s outburst, but a look from the general eases her expression. “Yes, but I don’t think that you’ll wan—”

“I need to know,” Finn says, more confidently than even he expected.

“Finn, I’m not sure if…” General Organa begins to say.

“I need to know,” he says, quieter this time.

General Organa sighs, a knowing sigh. One that says that this fight isn’t worth putting up. She looks up to Dr. Kalonia’s worried face, one that’s asking her to tell him no. “Alright Finn, but I don’t think it will be what you want to hear.”

“I understand,” he says, again, almost trying to convince himself more than he is the two women standing in front of him.

“Let’s go into the other room here then,” Dr. Kalonia says, gesturing just down the hall. The three of them walk nearly in step with each other. Finn feels lightheaded and dizzy, similar to the way he felt before Jess told him her story. The mixture of apprehension and curiosity don’t mix well together.

When they arrive to the slightly more secluded room, Finn could swear they could both hear him breathing so loudly, but he attempts to steel himself and appear as calm as possible.

Dr. Kalonia takes in a deep breath, looks at both the general and Finn before she looks down at her datapad and begins to speak, “I will start off by saying, I am surprised that he is even alive at this point, but that is a testament to his strength and this should all be viewed through that lens.

“Commander Dameron is severely malnourished and dehydrated, both of which we are trying to slowly remedy, but it’s clear that he was deprived of many necessities.

“As you may have seen, his face, and his entire body are covered with contusions and lacerations. Due to the severity of the injuries visible on his face, I’m concerned that he may be concussed, but we won’t be able to tell much until he wakes. His jaw appears to have been dislocated at one point, but it’s popped back into place.”

Finn stares blankly at the floor as he absorbs every word, his chest heavy and his hands shaking.

“Beyond the damage done from what appears to be regular physical beatings,” Dr. Kalonia continues, her tone clinical, devoid of as much emotion as she can drain from it, “there are a few injuries that stand out more to me as areas of concern. There is a large laceration that runs from his right hipbone to his left collarbone. With the similar characteristics of your injury, Finn, I have to believe it was caused by a lightsaber. The way the skin is refusing to heal properly and the bright red burn marks tracing the length of it, it seems clear to me.”

Finn winces at the thought, his eyes shut as his mind replayed that  moment out in the snow when the flash of fire ripped his back wide open. And to think that Poe experienced the same thing? Finn squeezes his eyes tighter to keep the tears from flowing.

“There is also his left wrist, which appears to have been broken for some time now based on the way it has been trying to heal, but it hasn’t done so properly which has complicated matters. We had to break the bone again in order to set it and heal it properly. He also has several broken ribs, two on the left and three on the right. Based on the bruising though, it does appear that there isn’t severe internal damage which is good, that would have made this situation much more dire.”

Finn feels as if his whole body could explode. With each description, he can feel the pain in himself, imagining the terror and the hopelessness that Poe must have felt with every blow.

“My team and I have done what we can for now, but we really do need a bacta tank if we are to speed along the healing process and help to relieve some of the intense pain that he is suffering right now. I know that acquiring one may be very difficult under the circumstances.”

General Organa grunts her acknowledgement, her face drained of color, her expression stern.

“Now of course, this is just what we can physically see. The mental ramifications could be…” Dr. Kalonia trails off, knowing that her implied thoughts were understood by all.

“We’ll be here for him,” General Organa finally says. She inhales, composing herself, “Is that all?”

Dr. Kalonia hesitates, a moment too long, “General, if I can have a word with you privately?” she asks, glancing over at Finn.

“Finn, I know that’s a lot for you to process right now, but we can have someone escort you back to your room for the night. I think you need some rest here,” General Organa says.

“No!” Finn exclaims, immediately knowing that was too much. Seeing the shocked looks on their faces, he lowers his voice, “I mean, Jess. She fell asleep on my bed.”

“Ah, I see,” the general nods, “Is there an open bed Finn can take? Just for the night?”

“Yes, here let me take you there, Finn,” Dr. Kalonia motions to the door.

Finn doesn’t want to leave, but he also doesn’t want to stay. He’s been holding himself together from the brink of complete emotional collapse and he knows he can’t prevent the flood much longer. He allows himself to dazedly walk to a room just feet from where he knows Poe is lying. Poe’s bruised and bloodied face floats to his consciousness and Finn nearly stumbles. He barely remembers entering the room and Dr. Kalonia leaving. As his legs give out from under him, he falls to the floor, the impact not registering as his whole body has gone numb.

Finn stays down on the floor for a moment, or two. He can’t tell how long has passed before he gets up and crawls over to the bed, his tired limbs sinking into the thin mattress. He allows his utter exhaustion to finally catch up to him.

Right before he drifts off, he sees General Organa standing in the hallway, her stature hunched. He swears he could hear her crying, but he couldn’t trust his own senses.

He submits to the darkness, and sleep comes.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Finn blinks his eyes open, heavy with sleep. He thinks he may have dreamt, but he can’t remember. Usually for the best, at least lately.

Everything is still, quiet.

For a second he forgets where he is, imagining he just woke up back in his own bed. The events of the past night slam into him unceremoniously. His heartbeat quickens, his breath shallow. He slips his legs out of the blankets, his feet tingling in the cold, canned air. His toes recoil a bit upon hitting the frigid ground, but he pushes the thought from his mind.

He pads lightly to the door, peeking around the corner. The lights are dimmed; it must still be night. He can’t feel the presence of anyone else awake for now. It feels like those nights when he couldn’t sleep and went to get snacks with BB-8. BB-8! Where did that little droid go? He made a mental note to go find him, hoping he wasn’t stuck out in the rain when the chaos began to unfold.

Finn aligns himself to turn left, down to the exit, to go back to his room. Then he remembers: Jess is probably still asleep there. No reason to go back. He knows he should just go back and lie down and hope that his buzzing mind decides to let him sleep again. He knows he should.

But he won’t. With one last cursory glance around, he tiptoes to his right, back down towards Poe’s room. Every step sounds like the loudest thing when you’re trying to be sneaky. Constantly looking over his shoulder, he makes it to the door, which is thankfully cracked open. He’d been worried that he’d have to fumble with a lock or a handle. Finn carefully pushes it open, trying to minimize the sound. One last time he looks behind him, and seeing nobody, he walks in.

His breath is taken away again.

But this time it isn’t in worry, or terror, though those feelings are still forming in the pit of his stomach. This time, it’s because he’s happy. He’s happy because he knows that Poe is safe, he is home, he can see him breathing, feel the warmth of his skin. He isn’t deluded into knowing that things are going to be easy, but he has to have hope.

Finn kneels beside Poe, the dim light giving Poe’s cheeks a flush of color Finn hadn’t seen before. Finn swallows the growing lump in his throat, his head spinning a bit. He reaches out to Poe’s bandaged hand, his fingers unwrapped and warm. Finn gently brushes his fingertips against Poe’s, and he can no longer stop the tears. With a small sob, Finn slides down to a seated position without letting go of Poe’s hand. He curls his fingers gently around Poe’s, his tears splashing to the floor in a small puddle.

“I’m here, Poe, I’m here,” Finn whispers between choked sobs as he tries to stay as quiet as possible.

Finn wishes he could stay in this moment forever as his world closes in, leaving only the two of them, fingers entwined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a bit expository for a bit, but I'm just settling back in and am outlining the next arc, so I promise more action soon. I hope you're enjoying it still! Cannot believe how much of this I've written, it's truly mind-boggling, and I thank all of you who keep me going. I promise to try to be better at responding to comments too! I usually get the emails at work and I can't log on at work, so I will try to be more diligent when I get home. Just know that I see all your kind words and they always brighten my day. <3
> 
> Chapter title from [No Good](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=scYxd17EnC8) by Perfume Genius


	26. let me hold it close and keep it here with me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: brief mention of needles

**One week later:**

Finn sits at his post, eyes glazed over. Time seems to freeze like this often for him. Nobody has said anything to him, though. He suspects the general told them to take it easy on him. He can’t decide whether or not to resent it or to appreciate it.

Someone finally comes up to him and taps him on the shoulder, says he’s relieved of duty for now and can go rest. It’s been the same girl twice, but Finn can’t remember her name. He musters as much of a smile as he can, but he knows it’s barely convincing at all. She smiles back, yet he can see in her eyes that she’s faking it as much as he is.

Finn grabs his jacket and heads down the hallway. He knows he should get something to eat as his stomach growls in protest, but he’s overwhelmed with the need to go outside. He can’t breathe in here, it’s stifling. He breaks out in a light jog as he passes several people, all of whom go out of their way to give him space.

He half wishes someone would ask him how he is just so he could blow up at them. The anger stewing inside isn’t directed at anything or anyone in particular, he just needs to let it all out.

There haven’t been answers in days, and Poe still isn’t awake.

The sheer joy he felt on the tarmac knowing Poe was home and the electricity in holding his hand had quickly subsided as the hours turned into days and nothing had changed. Finn made his nightly visits, BB-8 in tow once or twice, but every time Finn woke up from his inevitable dozing off, it was just him that was awake. He swears he saw Poe stirring to wake up, but he never has.

Finn reaches the door to the hangar, he kicks it open with a bit too much force, his foot throbs. His jog turns into a sprint as he runs past rows of parked X-wings, and a few of their pilots maintaining them. Finn can’t see if anyone looks at him as he rushes past.

Near the end of the hangar, he hears a faint beeping noise and a woman’s voice responding. He slows down as he sees where the noise is coming from. It’s coming from Black One, Poe’s X-wing, and there he finds Jess and BB-8 working on it.

“No, I really don’t know…oh! Hey Finn!” Jess calls out cheerily.

“What are you doing?” he asks, bluntly. He shakes his head, he shouldn’t have sounded so rough, “I mean, I didn’t expect to see you out here.”

“I don’t like being inside so much, so I come out here a lot. I’m done with my own ship, so I figured I’d make sure this ol’ thing is ready for when Poe needs it.”

“ _If_ Poe needs it,” Finn says, morosely, under his breath.

Jess’ face drops, “Oh Finn.” She slides down from the cockpit onto the ground, her boots landing with a dull thud. She comes over to him, and before he can object, wraps him in her arms, “He will. I know it.”

Finn’s throat tightens as he allows the tears to come, and all he can muster is a nod into her shoulder.

Jess doesn’t say anything, just lets Finn take his time he needs. She slowly unravels herself, putting her hands square on Finn’s shoulders, looking right into his eyes, “He _will_ be up there flying again soon.” She pauses a moment, then a grin grows on her face, “And _I_  don’t want him to get mad that nobody took care of his ship, so that’s what I’m doing. Want to help me?”

“Sure,” Finn nods, allowing himself a small smile as he lets her guide him under the ship, handing him a tool of which he has no idea what to do with.

“You see this little dent?” Jess asks.

Finn squints in the low light of the hangar, “Yeah what’s that from?”

“That was Snap’s fault. We were doing a training maneuver and he clipped Poe right here. He insisted on fixing it for him, but Poe refused. He said that he wanted something to hold over Snap’s head indefinitely,” she said, laughing at the memory, “So one night, I found Snap out in the hangar, this was at one of our old bases, it was a lot smaller than this. Anyway, I went and found Poe and told him that Snap was trying to buff it out. Poe immediately ran out and I swear Snap looked like he saw a ghost. Poe just started laughing uncontrollably, he’d been having a few drinks with friends, so he pulls out a bottle and smashed it against where Snap had fixed it. ‘Still your fault,’ he said. The three of us sat out there all night, just drinking and talking,” Jess pauses, “I think that’s the last time I’ve had that much fun.”

Finn bites his lip, looking down at the ground, caught up in her wave of nostalgia. He wishes he had memories like that.

“That’s why he’s going to be fine, Finn. Because we’re going to have fun like that again. One day this war will be over, and we can do that every night. Just sit and talk, and live. Truly live.”

“I hope so,” Finn murmurs.

“General Organa says that the most powerful weapon we have is hope, so you’re already ahead of the game,” Jess says, her eyes steely, “Come on, come help me with this, I need some extra hands anyway.”

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A few hours later, Finn and Jess leave the hangar. He walks her back to her room, and he turns to head back to his room. Finn pauses. He hasn’t checked on Poe since last night. He knows that General Organa would come find him if there was anything major, but he can’t shake the feeling of responsibility of checking on him in person.

Finn takes in a deep breath and heads down to the medbay.

As soon as he opens the door, he knows the situation has changed.

From down the hall he hears the most gut-wrenching scream he’s ever heard in his life, and Finn’s blood runs cold. Chills cover every square inch of his body, and he breaks into a full sprint.

Finn’s field of vision narrows, it’s as if blackness is creeping into his peripheral vision. A wave of nausea hits him as he hears the scream again and he knows, he knows it, it’s Poe.

He arrives to the door of Poe’s room to find it crowded with the entire staff, Finn tries to claw his way forward.

“No! It’s not real, this isn’t real! They’re trying to trick me!”

“Someone grab his arm before he hurts himsel—do it now!”

“No, please, I don’t believe you!”

Finn finally makes his way to the front, where he sees Poe, wild-eyed, pressed against the back of his bed, trying to push away the doctors coming toward him, his body contorted.

“No, stop! Y—you’re just trying to trick me. They did this before! I know it’s not real!”

“This is real, you’re safe here…you’re home…”

“NO!”

Poe’s face is flushed red among the dappled bruises still healing, but there’s more pain written into every crease than Finn has ever seen in his life. He’s terrified, and Finn can’t stand it.

“Poe!” Finn cries out.

Instantly, Poe stops moving, jerking his head to look directly at Finn. “Finn?” he whispers, his face lighting up ever so slightly. But as soon as it did, his expression drops, squeezing his eyes shut, Poe mutters to himself quietly. “No. No, no, no, this isn’t real, it’s just a dream, it’s just a dream.”

“Poe, it’s not, it’s not!” Finn yells out, his voice hoarse. He tries to reach out to Poe, but he realizes he’s being held back by several people at the door, “What? Let me go! Let me…” Finn struggles against their grip. He looks up to see fear paralyzing Poe’s face.

“Y—you,” he says, looking at the frazzled doctor holding Poe’s injured left arm down, “You took Finn too.” Poe’s lower lip quivers as he looks at Finn being restrained at the door, “No. NO! This is all my fault, this is all my fault!”

Finn realizes what Poe is insinuating almost as soon as it leaves his lips: he thinks that he’s still being held by the First Order.

“No! Poe! You’re safe here!” Finn yells, squirming, “Let go of me!”

“Where is the general? Did someone go get her?”

“You’re all _monsters! Let him go!”_

“Poe, they’re not lying to you! You’re home!”

“We have to sedate him!”

“Finn!”

“Poe!”

Finn jerks out of one person’s grip, only to see another one of the doctor’s approaching Poe with a large needle. Finn inhales sharply, “What are you doing?”

“Hold him still! Please someone get him. Be as gentle as you can!”

“What are you _doing?!”_ Finn yells, even louder this time.

Poe cowers against the two men holding his arms down, kicking his legs, that blood-curding scream echoing around the room as the doctor injects Poe with whatever was in that needle straight to his neck. Poe squeals at the insertion, his eyes fluttering backward, then falling limply into the arms of the men holding him up.

“Why did you do that?” Finn yells, his mind racing, but not enough to stop the flood of words coming out of his mouth, “He was terrified!”

“Yes, he was,” came the voice of Dr. Kalonia, who nearly appears out of nowhere to come into the room, “He’s been through a lot of trauma, and it appears that he didn’t realize that he’d been transported home.”

“Clearly!” Finn shouts, throwing his caution to the wind, “He just needed someone to talk to him, not a giant needle to his neck!”

Dr. Kalonia weathers Finn’s verbal assault with patience, “He was too worked up to talk him down. He could have hurt himself in the fragile state he is in.”

Finn opens his mouth to say something else, but knows in his heart that she is right. It’s just more painful than he thought it would be to see Poe like this. His emotional defenses are already down and this is seemingly too much.

The two men who’d held Poe back, now gently lay him back down into bed, fixing any bandages that had come loose in the struggle. Finn watched as Poe slept in what he could only hope was a peaceful slumber.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Finn didn’t even hear General Organa come in and get debriefed, nor did he hear her leave. He pulled up a chair right next to Poe, just like he had the nights before, but this time, he could feel Poe’s presence. Even in sleep, he seems more alive than ever before.

Finn’s eyes begin to droop shut. His sheer willpower was enough to keep him awake, but that was no longer as Finn’s head bobs down and his eyes fully close.

Right at the moment Finn is about to surrender to sleep, he hears a stirring, then a voice so small and quiet, had he not been right there, he wouldn’t have heard it.

“Fi—finn?”

Finn jerks awake, “Poe?”

Poe looks forward, not moving an inch of his body, except his trembling lower lip, “Finn, is this real?”

“Yes,” Finn replies quickly, grabbing Poe’s right hand, his cold fingers in his grip, “Poe, you’re home, you’re safe.”

Poe squeezes his eyes shut, whimpering. He takes in a few ragged breaths before he is able to speak again, “I never thought I’d see you again. I never thought I—I would ever…”

Finn chokes on a sob as he holds Poe’s hand even tighter, and Poe reciprocates, his fingers wrapping around Finn’s.

Finn lowers his head onto Poe’s shoulder, his tears soaking the blanket. Poe leans his head onto Finn’s, his soft dark curls cascading down Finn’s face.

“I’m safe now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, let me profusely apologize for the huge delay in any sort of update. I am trying not to make excuses for things in life, but these past few weeks have been weird for me. In an internal way and an external way with the absolute chaos unfolding in my country these days. It's been hard to disconnect, so I've had to take some time for self care. And normally writing helps, but I also had the mother of all writer's block. Which is thankfully gone now, so I'm feeling more and more energized by it.
> 
> Second of all, thank you all for still hanging in here with me. You're honestly a huge source of inspiration for me and also accountability, which we all need from time to time! You're all amazing people and I want to give you all virtual hugs because we need to share as much love in this world as we can right now <3
> 
> Chapter title from [In The Aeroplane Over The Sea](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W6H8WcTPnWM) by Neutral Milk Hotel.


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